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JUDGE GEO. W. RIDDLE 

(The Author) 




IJuLKa 







For many years I have been solic- 
ited by friends and some members of 
my family to write my recollections 
of incidents relating to crossing the 
plains and the early settlement of 
Southern Oregon. 

I have been reluctant to under- 
take such a work, feeling that I lack- 
ed the ability to do the subjects jus- 
tice in a literary sense. However, I 
have concluded to write a series of 
sketches, but must warn my readers 
not to expect anything but the plain 
story of the recollections of 65 years 
ago, written in the plain language 
of one whose school education would 
not amount to a fourth grade in our 
public schools of today. It may not 
be amiss to say that I was born near 
Springfield, Illinois, Dec. 14, 1839. 
My father, William H. Riddle, was 
born in Bourbon county, Kentucky, 
at a place then known as Riddle sta- 
tion, and his father, William Riddle, 
was a native of Michlin county, Penn- 
sylvania. My mother was Maximilia 
Bouseman. Her parents were of 
German blood, but were born in the 
United States, and her father was 
in the U. S. service during the war 
of 1812. I have in my possession a 
copy of a newspaper about half the 
size of the Enterprise, dated 1818 
(just about a hundred years ago), 



giving an account of a baptist asso- 
ciation of which my mother's father 
was a member. 

My father emigrated from Ohio 
to Illinois in the year 1838, and set- 
tled upon some prairie land across 
the Sangamon river and about ten 
miles from Springfield. My father 
was a blacksmith and had a shop and 
plied his trade on the farm. My 
mother being the better farmer, had 
much to do with the conduct of the 
farm, while we boys were put to 
work as soon as we were able to pull 
weeds. Corn was our principal crop, 
an don the virgin soil of Illion,si if 
my memory is correct, 100 bushels 
to the acre was only considered a 
good crop. Our farm consisted of 
160 acres, laying in a square, every 
foot of it arable land, and what we 
would call level in Oregon. When I 
revisited this farm a few years ago, 
after an absence of 65 years, and 
viewing the splendid crop of corn, I 
could but exclaim, "What was my 
father thinking of to leave a farm 
like this and to brave the hardships 
and dangers of the plains in search 
of a better!" 

But when I look back over the 
many stirring events covering the 67 
years since we hitched up our ox 
teams and started for Oregon, I can 



but be pleased that I have been per 
mitted to take part in the develop- 
ment of a state like our beloved Ore- 
gon. 

I feel that I am taxing the pa- 
tience of my readers with the fore- 
going, but everything has to have a 
beginning, even the "fiddler" at a 
country dance (it appeared to me), 
used t otake a long time to tune his 
fiddle, but that was soon forgotten 
when the music began, so I hope this 
beginning may not seem out of the 
way when the more interesting ev- 
ents of my story are written. 

In the fall of 1850, Isaac Con- 
stant, a near nieghbor, whose farm 
joined ours, returned from Oregon. 
He had crossed the plains with ox 
teams in 1848 and returned with sad- 
dle and pack horses. It is needless 
to say that Mr. Constant was the cen- 
ter of interest for the neighborhood. 
The glowing accounts he gave of the 
beauty of the country, of the mild- 
ness of the climate, the fertility of 
the soil, and the fact that a man and 
wife were entitled to a half section 
of land to be selected by themselves 
in a new country where the hand of 
the white man had not yet made his 
mark. Mr. Constant also brought 
some gold dust which I remember 
was shown in a glass dish, which ex- 
cited and fired the imagination. Mr. 
Constant was a man that command- 
ed the confidence of his neighbors. 
He was a well to do farmer, was the 
owners of one of the finest farms in 
the best part of Illinois. His trip to 
Oregon was to spy out the land. But 
unlike the Israelites that were sent 



JB airly Days in Oregon ,^Q 



by Moses to spy out their promised 
land and brought back a conflicting 
account of the country, one bunch of 
grapes, some pomegranites and a few 
dried figs, Mr. Constant brought gold 
dust and a truthful account of the 
fertile valleys, clear running streams, 
the wonderful forests and mountains 
of Oregon. 

It is needless to say that in our 
neighborhood there was great plan- 
ning to come to Oregon. Farms were 
offered for sale, but there were few 
buyers. My father alone succeeded 
in selling his farm, and no doubt at 
a great sacrifice. As I remember, 
my father received about $3000 for 
160 acres of finest farming land and 
40 acres of timber land in the San- 
gamon river bottom. " 

Mr. Constant failed to sell his 
farm, remained another year, and 
finally selling out, crossed the plains 
inl852 and settled in Jackson county, 
the town of Central Point being a 
part of his donation claim. 

During the winter of 1850-51 our 
family was busy preparing for the 
long trip across the plains. My fath- 
er no doubt was aided greatly by 
Mr. Constant's advice. Oxen must 
be purchased. This was difficult, 
there being few broken oxen to be 
had suitable for. so long a trip. Tliey 
must be young, clean steers^ prefer- 
ably four years old, and of the si* 
yoke of oxen we started with only 
one pair was well broken. "Bill and 
John" were a pair of big red steers 
that never failed us in crossing the 
plains, and did us good service for 
several years after, in plowing the 



JBfiirly Days in Oregon 






"hew so'l and improving our new 
home. 

I During that winter my parents 
^worked out every detail of the teams 
and wagons necessary; what supplies 
of food and clothing to provide, and 
how they should be packed; and as 
many head of young cows and heif- 
ers to be purchased as there was mon- 
ey to buy. Firearms were not for- 
gotten. My father purchased two 
rifles, «ne for my brother, William, 
who was two years older than I, and 
one for me. Mine was a small cali- 
ber squirrel gun with full dark curly 
maple stock, elaborately ornamented 
with inlaid German silver, tallow 
box, etc. It is needless to say that 
I was about the proudest ten year 
old boy in the state of Illinois, and 
I was soon shooting at prairie chick- 
ens and rabbits. I can well remem- 
ber my first hit. It was in a hazel 
thicket bordering the Sangamon riv- 
or bottom. I succeeded in disabling 
my rabbit, so dropped my gun, and 
after a long chase, caught the rabbit 
but was unable to find my rifle, so 
went home with my rabbit but minus 
the gun. I was sent back with a 
search party and the gun was soon 
found, and I am sure, in all my hunt- 
fnsr experience since, I have never 
lost my gun. 

It was the fore part of April, 1851. 
that everything was in readiness for 
our start to Oregon. Of the many 
of our neighbors who had planned to 
come, only the following were ready 
to make the start: Stephen Hussv 
and family, Samuel Yokum and fam- 
ily, and "Sandy" Yokum, a bachelor. 



They were all well to do farmers 
who rented their farms and were 
ready for the great adventure. When 
ready to make the start our family 
consisted of my father and mother, 
sisters and brothers as follow: Arti- 
necia Chapman, a sister whose hus- 
band had died a few months before, 
and her infant son, John Chapman; 
Isabella, aged 18; William H., aged 
13 (died in 1857); myself, aged 11, 
Abner, aged 9; John Bouseman, 
aged 7; Anna M., aged 4; F. Stilley, 
aged 2. In addition to the above my 
mother's half-sister, Lucinda McGill, 
aged about 45 years, had made her 
home with us for several years. She 
was a maiden lady, but after arriv- 
ing in Oregon she married Campbell 
Chrismas, at one time the wealthiest 
man in Lane county. Also Anna Hall 
a cousin, aged 11 years. She is a 
sister of John Hall of Myrtle Creek, 
and now Mrs. Thos. Bealle of Cen- 
tral Point, Oregon. 

It will be seen that our immediate 
family consisted of thirteen, in ad- 
dition to the family three young men 
were employed to drive the ox teams. 
They were Newt, and George Bram- 
son, brothers, and Jack Middleton., 
I think they worked their way for 
their board. Our outfit consisted of 
three wagons, each drawn by three 
yoke of oxen; one large carriage, or 
"omnibus", for the family, to be 
drawn by four horses, and about, 
forty head of loose cattle, cows and 
heifers. One of the wagons and 
teams was the property of my sister, 
Mrs. Chapman. 

Your readers may think it takes 



G 



1$ airly Days in Oregon 



mo a long time to get started across 
the plains, but I am trying to give 
them an idea of what preparations 
were required to make a six months 
journey across the plains in the early 
fifties. Also the experiences of our 
family were typical of all others that 
crossed the plains as we did. 

I would also say that these writ- 
ings are not intended for a history 
of the Riddle family, but the events 
hlch I shall write are so interre- 
lated with members of our family 
that it in part shows the relations 
members of our family had in the 
early settlement of Southern Oregon 
New that I am through with intro- 
ductory matter (tuning the fiddle), 
in my next we will make a start 
across the plains and give an ac- 
count of more interesting events. 



Article II. 

It was about the 10th of April, 
1851, that we made our start for 
Oregon. Many of our neighbors were 
on hand to bid us a last goodbye and 
witness the start, and quite an array 
it was. Three ox teams hitched to 
covered wagons. The great covered 
carriage for the family followed by 
the loose cattle driven by the young- 
er members of the family. I can at 
this time only imagine the emotions 
of our parents and older members of 
family at leaving their home and 
b'dding goodbye to friends to brave 
the dangers of the plains. We young- 
er ones no doubt felt proud and hap- 
py that we were so distinguished. We 
were going to Oregon. 

Our first objective was a school 



house about five miles from our 
start, near the home of Stephen 
Hussy (one of the parties who was 
to make the trip ) , and where all were 
to meet to make the final start. 

This first day was beset with many 
difficulties. Our oxen had been train- 
ed during the winter but were 
thoroughly broken, but we had skill- 
ful drivers and made the first day's 
journey without serious accident. 

Not so with other members of the 
party, I remember when we reached 
the home of "Sandy" Yokum, the 
batchelor, who had been awaiting 
our arrival and had his green oxen 
hitched to his wagon (no doubt as 
sisted by friends) ; when our teams 
had passed "Sandy" had his barn- 
yard gate thrown open and started 
his team for Oregon. The oxen made 
through the gateway, but the wagon 
brought the gate and one gatepost 
along. Result, a general mixup in 
the lane. I do not remember how 
"Sandy" managed to reach the first 
camp. 

The second day no move was made. 
The train was organized by electing 
Stephen Hussy captain. The other 
members of the train were Samuel 
and "Sandy" Yokum (Mrs. Hussy 
was a sister of the Yokums). These 
Yokiims were not related to. the pio- 
neer family that now reside at Rid- 
dle. The third morning my oldest 
sister /and her husband, Thomas 
Wilson, came to bid us a final fare- 
well. 

I remember few incidents worth 

relating , until we reached Council 

•;, at the Missouri river, excep* 



JSariy Days in Oregon 



that I remember more rainy days 
than there was sunshine. We crossed 
the Illinois river at Beardstown and 
Mississippi .river near Warsaw, 
thus passing through a part of the 
state of Missouri, where we saw a 
lot of negroes working in a field and 
were told that they were slaves. This 
was my only near view of slavery as 
it then existed in the Southern 
states. 

When we arrived at Council Bluffs 
we found the Missouri river at flood. 
Much of the low ground on the Iowa 
side was overflowed, making it im- 
possible to proceed until the waters 
should subside. Then we found other 
emigrant trains, and during the sev- 
eral days we were held up more ar- 
rived, until every available camping 
ground was occupied. Groups of 
, covered wagons and teams, each rep- 
resenting an emigrant train, gave 
the appearance of a lot of villages. 
Here many acquaintances were made 
that lasted a life time. The trains 
were 'generally known by the states 
they were from, such as "Illinois 
train", "Iowa train" or "Missouri 
train". Many of them had inscrip- 
tions on their wagon covers such as 
"Oregon or Bust", and various other 
slogans. 

While waiting for the waters to 

subside, with my father, I visited the 

I little town of Kanesville (now Coun- 

l ''! Bluffs). My father was looking 

f for some additional supplies, and 

I found that in a recent fire there was 

a large lot of hams and shoulders 

slightly damaged. Prom this lot he 

iVyflected several hundred pounds at 



a reduced price, and fortunate it was 
that we took on this extra supply, 
for some families were destitute by 
the time they were half way across 
the plains. One man who was after- 
wards attached to our train had been 
warned that his supplies were not 
adequate for the journey, but had 
said, "Well, I am not going to over- 
load my team. There will be lots o: 
people on the road and they will not 
allow women and children to starve/ 
He guessed right. They did not ai- 
low them to suffer, but for the last 
two months of the trip his family was 
fed from the supplies of others with 
out money or price from this man, as 
he claimed to have no funds. I have 
often heard it said that the plains 
would test a man's character. If L - 
had a mean streak in him it would 
be sure to develop, and on the other 
hand, if he were endowed with pa- 
tience, benevolence and courage, he 
would sure have the opportunity to 
test these virtues. 

After several days waiting the mud 
dy waters of the Missouri subsided 
and the ferry landing could be reach- 
ed. My recollection is that the trains 
moved out in the order of their ar- 
rival. Our train was ferried across 
about 12 o'clock, and when we land- 
ed we were in the Indian country, 
and we were made to realize that 
fact before we slept. Our first camp 
after crossing the river was about 
five miles out. (The site of this camp 
must now be within the limits of 
the city of Omaha). At the front of 
a draw or hollow that was surround- 
ded on two sides by a ridge of long, 



s 



JSarly- Days in Oregon 



grassy ridges. When camp was made 
the cattle and horses were turned up 
the hollow to graze on the rich, ab- 
undant grass. Fires were started, 
supper prepared, and just as the light 
of day began to fade and all were 
seated for supper, the cry of "In- 
dians! Indians!" was raised, and 
there they were, mounted on ponies 
and armed with long spears, coming 
over a low ridge. They dashed among 
our cattle, cutting out eight or ten 
head, urging them along with their 
spears, and soon disappeared over 
the low hills. It is needless to say 
there was excitement and confusion 
in our camp. Horses were caught 
and saddled and pursuit was made, 
but before the Indians could be over- 
taken darkness had set in and pur- 
suit was useless. This raid was a 
complete surprise. The elders of 
our train were aware that there were 
Pawnee villages opposite Kanesville 
and the few we met with were elo- 
quent with their own praise. "Me 
Pawnee. Heap good Injun. Sioux 
heap bad." 

In after years, in thinking of this 
cattle raid, I had my doubts about 
the thieves being Indians, and think 
they may have been white cattle rust- 
lers dressed as Indians. This epi- 
sode was no doubt a great lesson to 
our train managers. Our stock were 
always guarded afterwards. It was 
a pioneer maxim that "when there 
are no Indians in sight, be cautious." 

The morning after, my father 
with three other men mounted horses 
and followed the trail of the thieves, 
while the wagon train moved on. My 



father, with his posse, overtook the 
train at the end of the second day, 
but without the lost cattle. They had 
followed the trail for several miles 
until they reached the timbered bot- 
tom lands along the Missouri river. 
There the tracks were mingled with 
the tracks of many other cattle, so 
after a day of fruitless search they 
started to overtake the train, and 
here I must record an accident to 
the search party. In the night there 
came on a heavy rain that swelled 
the creek banks to overflowing and 
the party found a temporary pole 
bridge across "Pappio" creek almost 
afloat; the party led their horses a- 
cross and my father came last; his 
mare, "Puss", tangled in the loose 
poles, went under and was drowned; 
he was not able to recover the sad- 
dle. This was an irrepairable loss 
to us youngsters. Puss was our sad- 
dle animal that we took turns in rid- 
ing, following the loose cattle, and 
many a weary day we had, following 
the cattle on foot; and later we were 
obliged to abandon the family car- 
riage, of which I will relate later. 

Our losses on the first two days 
were the only losses of stock on the 
entire trip. 

Our route laid on the north side 
of the Platte river several hundred 
miles,* part of the time along the 
banks. During that part of our 
journey we had little trouble with 
the Indians. When about one hun- 
dred miles out from Omaha — or 
rather the site where that city now 
stands — we met a long train of Paw- 
nee Indians returning from a buffalo 



J3 ajrly Days in Oregon 



hunt. Their ponies were loaded, with 
dried buffalo meat and their manner 
of loadng the ponies is worthy of 
note. On each side of a pony a light 
pole was fastened to a saddle, the 
poles trailing on the ground. Six or 
eight feet behind, the ends on the 
ground spread out to give the pony 
freedom of action. On these poles 
cross pieces were lashed, making a 
receptacle for all their equipment — 
tepees, papooses and puppies. This 
manner of transportation was com- 
mon to all the plains Indians. They 
also used these poles in erecting their 
tepees or tents. 

These Indians were very friendly, 
but as usual told us that the Omahas 
and Sioux were bad Indians. Fur- 
ther along the Platte we had an ex- 
perience with Indians that we' after- 
ward learned was common to many 
emigrant trains in 1851. We came 
to a small creek or slough where 
trains ahead of us constructed a pas- 
sage way by spreading willows over 
soft ground. Here a lot of Indians 
demanded two head of cattle for 
crossing. Our train was halted and 
a parley ensued. There seemed to 
be no way to evade crossing at this 
place and some of our party were 
in favor of acceeding to the demands 
of the Indians, as some time must 
/be spent in repairing the road and 
more Indians were arriving, one of 
whom made a great show of what 
would become of us if we did not 
pay, and to show us what a great In- 
dian he was, exhibited a paper that 
had been given him by a white man. 
l[ read something like this: "The 



bearer says he is an Omaha chief. 
He is an old rascal and a bluffer. 
Don't give him anything — go ahead." 
So, after a delay of several hours, 
our train was lined up, loose cattle 
brought close up, and with a display 
of arms the drive was made through 
the Indians, who made little effort 
to prevent our passage, which we 
might have made in the first place 
had our elders had more knowledge 
of the Indian character. Our train 
captain, Mr. Hussey, although an ex- 
emplary man, had little knowledge 
of the Indians and lacked that cour- 
age and force that would command 
the respect of the "untamed savage." 



Article III 
In the first of these articles I 
gave an account of Mr. Isaac Con- 
stant having returned to Illinois from 
Oregon in 1850. In Mr. Constant's 
company on the return trip was a 
young man, Cornelius Hill, whose 
home was in Iowa. They made the 
trip with saddle and pack horses, fol- 
lowing what was known as the 
"Lassen Cut-off" trail. They passed 
through the Umpqua and Rogue riv- 
er valleys, leaving the Oregon-Calif- 
ornia trail at Ashland, "crossing the 
Klamath river about 15 miles below 
where Klamath Falls is now situ- 
ated, then by Rhett Lake, Goose 
Lake, Surprise Valley and connect- 
ing with the California trail on the 
Humboldt river near where Winna- 
mecca now stands. 

Mr. Constant and Mr. Hill had ar- 
ranged to recross the plains together 
on this route in 1851 and when Mr. 



io 



X$ni m ly Days in Ore iron 



C. was unable to make the start he 
advised my father to join with Mr. 
Hill and come to Oregon by the 
southern route. 

About 200 miles out from the Mis- 
souri river, on the banks of the 
river Loup — a tributary of the 
Platte river — we overtook the Hill 
train. They were being ferried a- 
cross the river and while engaged in 
this work death claimed a member 
of their party, a young man named 
Welch who, from accounts, had been 
very sick for several days. He was 
well to do and had a splendid outfit, 
an ox team with two young men to 
care for that, a team of horses and 
light wagon for himself and brother 
John Welch. This death scene 
comes very vividly to my mind to- 
day. The wagon covers were rolled 
up showing the dieing man support- 
ed by his brother, and with groups 
of sympathizing friends standing a- 
round, Welch passed to the beyond. 

I have given a more particular ac- 
count of this first meeting of the 
Hill train for the reason that we 
were in close touch and for the last 
half of the journey were intimately 
associated with them. With this 
train was Samuel Briggs and family 
who were the first settlers in Or- 
chard Valley W. F. Briggs, his son, 
was one time county surveyor of this 
county, and his descendants are resi- 
dents of Canyonville; also Chas. 
Beckworth, whose donation land 
claim is now owned by Alex Worth- 
ington; Cornelius Hill, who settled 
on the McKenzie, east of Eugene. 
Mr. Hill was a son-in-law of Samuel 



Briggs, and Mrs. Elzie Logsdon of 
our town is a grand daughter of 
Cornelius Hill. There was also 
Elijah and Erastus Hill, younger 
brothers of Cornelius. I have men- 
tioned these names because they 
were closely associated with and 
active in the affairs of the early set- 
tlement of Douglas county. 

It was near the close of day when 
the Hill train had crossed the river 
and but one wagon of our train was 
ferried over that day. The owner, 
"Sandy" Yokum the bachelor, had 
forethought enough to move his wag- 
on to high ground, but out of sight 
of camp. Turning his oxen loose, he 
returned to camp, and it happened 
that Sandy's wagon and team was 
left to itself for several days. Dur- 
ing the night there came a thunder 
storm with a regular Nebraska 
cloud burst; in a few hours the river 
was at full flood and cutting the 
banks away. Twice during the night 
our wagons were moved back and 
the following morning where our 
camp had been the evening before, 
was a raging torrent. The three 
men who were operating the ferry 
made every effort to save their boat 
— they had carried the split planks 
used for decking, to a place of safe- 
ty, but during the night the banks 
caved off on the boat and swamped 
it and the current carried it away. 
The ferrymen, on viewing the situ- 
ation the next day, gave up the ferry- 
ing business and returned to civili- 
zation. Here was a situation — an 
emigrant train on the wrong 
a swollen river, or rather one wagr^i 



JSfiT'lv Davs in Oregon 



11 



and team on the right side and the 
others on the wrong side. The only 
thing to do was to construct a boat, 
but how was the question. And here 
I remember my father took the lead 
he being the only mechanic in the 
train. Some distance down the river 
stood a grove of large cottonwood 
trees; three of these were felled and 
three large canoes were made. When 
launched they were placed alongside 
of each other and covered with the 
planking saved from the old boat, 
which made a safe but clumsy boar 
which was all ready by the time the 
river subsided, which was several 
days on account of a succession of 
those Platte river electrical storms 
that are said not to be equalled any- 
where else in the world. 

One day during our delay in build- 
ing the boat, a band of buffalo was 
reported feeding a few miles from 
our camp. At once all were excited; 
horses were mounted and the hunt 
was soon on. None of our crowd 
seemed to have any knowledge of 
how to approach a herd of buffalo. 
Captain Hussey was mounted on the 
fleetest horse and armed with a shot 
gun. From accounts, there was a 
promiscuous charge on the herd. 
Captain Hussy succeeded in overtak- 
ing an old bull and proceeded to fill 
his hide with bird shot. It is need- 
less to say that there was no buffalo 
steak in our camp that night. 

The water subsiding, our wagons 
were safely ferried across the river, 
the stock was made to swim, and 
we were again on our way. 

Some of our young men remained 



and operated the ferry for several 
days and then sold it, and by forced 
marches overtook our train, and in 
this way our boat was used through 
that year. 

After crossing the Loup river our 
route lay along the Platte river; we 
were seldom out of sight of other 
trains. Several had passed us while 
we were detained at the Loup river, 
building a boat. These trains fol- 
lowed up the river to gain a ford 
that could be crossed when the river 
was at moderate stage. In doing 
this they must travel an extra day 
to regain the main road. From the 
records left along the road there were 
trains 300 or 400 miles ahead of us. 
These records were mostly written 
on buffalo heads or bones that were 
strewn everywhere, and bleached 
white from the rain and sun. A great 
deal of valuable information as to 
distance, grass, or camping place, or 
the date of a certain train passing, 
was transmitted in this manner. 

Speaking of buffalo, in 1851 there 
were countless thousands along the 
Platte river. At times emigrant 
trains were in great danger if caught 
in the route of a stampeding buffalo 
herd. Loose cattle, if enveloped in 
this rush, would be carried away. At 
one time our train was in danger. 

One day, looking across the Platte, 
we saw a great herd of buffalo enter- 
ing the river. At this point the riv- 
er was about a half mile wide, but 
shallow. The herd was entering the 
river some hundred yards higher up 
stream, but we might be directly in 
its path by the time it reached the 



12 



JBai-ly Days in Oregon 



bank on our side. 

Ox teams were unhitched and wag- 
ons formed into a corral and the 
loose stock herded inside. When the 
bison reached our side they were 
about a quarter of a mile in front — 
great masses of them — a hundred or 
more yards wide and miles long. 
They were several hours in passing, 
and were moving at a brisk gate, 
but not stampeding. As I remember, 
no attempt was made to kill any of 
them; in fact it might have endang- 
ered the train. The buffalo are said 
to follow their leaders when on the 
move, but when stampeded will 
crowd into such irrisistable masses 
that many of them are trampled to 
death. It is said that Indians of 
long ago had a plan of capturing 
buffalo by directing a stampede to a 
precipice. The leaders, by pressure, 
were forced over and others would 
follow to their destruction by the 
thousands. But gone are buffalo, 
when 60 years ago tens of thousands 
of their dark forms could be seen 
dotting the plains! Now they are 
practically extinct qpd only to be 
found in captivity. 

Our travel up the North Platte 
was uneventful. More rain than 
dust. Grass and water plentiful, but 
muddy. Our greatest annoyances 
were mosquitos and buffalo gnats. 

At a point opposite Fort Laramie 
we met a band of several hundred 
Sioux Indians who were crossing the 
ferry. They spread out over the 
road with their ponies and forbid us 
to approach them. Their great fear 
was small pox. After some delay 



they cleared the way for us to pass 
on. I can remember that the sight 
of so many Indians created uneasi- 
ness in the minds of the elders of 
our train, but we saw no more of the 
Sioux and were not molested by them. 

After leaving the North Platte, our 
road laid along the Sweetwater, a 
cold stream about the size of 
Cow Creek, » and, I believe, the first 
clear, pure water we found on the 
trip. On this creek are situated two 
of the best known landmarks of the 
emigrant trail — Independence Rock 
and the Devil's Gate. 

It was a coincidence that we ar- 
rived at Independence Rock early 
on the day of July 4th. We struck 
camp and celebrated the 4th with a 
rest and in viewing one of nature's 
phenomenon. The rock is situated 
on a plain and covers 25 or 30 acres 
It is from 100 to 200 feet high and 
the top can only be reached in a 
few places. 

Another notable thing about this 
rock was that it marked the halfway 
point of the emigrant journey. 

The Devil's Gate is about 6 miles 
from Independence Rock in what we 
would call a box canyon, with the 
precipitate rock walls several hun- 
dred feet high and the rocks having 
the appearance of having been split 
apart. The Sweetwater river rushes 
through the opening in a straight 
line. This split rock is less than a 
quarter mile through with a clear 
view from either end. I would say 
that although my recollection of In- 
dependence Rock and the Devil's; 
Gate is very distinct, I have been; 






JBariy Days in Oregon 



13 



aided in the description by that giv- , would say that a frightened ox team 
en by Ezra Meeker, when on his trip i is about the most uncontrolable 
locating and marking the Oregon thing in the whole world, 
trail. At another time we came near 

losing control of the ox teams, 



Article IV 



though not from fright. 



ox 
The camp 



When I commenced writing my j before reaching Green river was a 



recollections of pioneer days it was 
not my intention to give a circum- 
stantial account of crossing the 
plains, but as my mind reaches back 
over a vista of fifty-seven years, there 
are so many incidents of our trip 
across the plains that crowd upon 
my memory that I have thought their 
relation would be interesting to 
those who have not had the exper- 
ience and of the few survivors who 
crossed the plains in the early fifties 
it may recall to their memories some 
of their experiences. 

Many people have witnessed the 
wild flight of a runaway horse team, 
but it has been the lot of few to see 
the stampede of ox teams. We liad 
passed the Devil's Gap but a few 
miles when the loose cattle that we 
were driving close up behind the wag- 
ons except when allowed to spread 
out to feed, became frightened and 
dashed up among the teams and im- 
mediately the whole train was in a 
wild stampede and general mix up. 
Fortunate it was for us that we were 
on a perfectly level plain. The re- 
sult was that one wagon was over- 
turned, several teams tangled up 
with oxen down, and wagons and 
teams scattered over the prairies. 
Fortunately there was no one injur- 
ed, although there were women and 
children in almost every wagon. I 



dry camp and it was some time after 
noon that we approached the river, 
and the oxen and stock were almost 
famished for water. When we were 
on the slope and about a quarter of 
a mile from the river, the loose cat- 
tle, no doubt smelling the water, 
commenced crowding up along the 
side of the teams and the drivers 
would soon have lost control had 
not a halt been called and the oxen 
unhooked from the wagons and un- 
yoked, whereupon they made a wild 
rush for the river. At the foot of 
the hill, at the river bank, there was 
a ferry slip at the foot of which was 
very deep water. Here it required 
the efforts of the ferry men to turn 
the cattle aside to where they could 
reach where the -water was shallow. 
But just imagine what a catastrophe 
it would have been had control been 
lost of the teams and they had 
plunged over that bank into deep 
water with women and children, 
wagons and all. 

I have omitted to say that before 
the occurences just related we had 
joined the Hill train, and I have no 
doubt that it was Cornelius Hill who 
by his knowledge of conditions at 
the river bank and quick action sav- 
ed our train from irreparable disas- 
ter. In a former article I stated that 
Mr. Hill had the year before passed 



14 



IB airly Days in Oregon 



over the trail we were traveling, and 
for the remainder of the trip we had 
the benefit of his knowledge and ex- 
perience, and of which we had the 
immediate benefit at the Green Riv- 
er crossing. Some men who oper- 
ated a ferry demanded an exhorbit- 
ant price for ferrying our wagons 
across the river and there appeared 
no other means of crossing. Mr. Hill 
remembered that his party had cross- 
ed with saddle horses the year be- 
fore at a deep ford about a mile 
down stream. Upon investigation it 
was decided to attempt the ford. 

Wagon boxes were raised by plac- 
ing blocks of wood inside the stand- 
ards to raise the boxes above water 
and all lashed to the running gear 
of the wagon to prevent the current 
carrying them away. A trial trip 
with horse team crossed in safety, 
but it was decided that oxen would 
be swept down with the current, so 
horse teams were substituted, mak- 
ing several trips, and all were land- 
ed safely across. The oxen and loose 
cattle were made to swim. I rem- 
ember that many of the cattle were 
swept down by the current and land- 
ed on a little island and someone 
swam in to drive them off. The a- 
bove shows only a few of the hard- 
ships incident to the journey across 
the plains. 

At the Soda Springs on the Bear 
river came the parting of the ways. 
Near that point the California and 
Oregon trails separated. Here all 
our friends who started with us from 
Illinois took the Oregon trail by the 
way of the Snake river and the Col- 



umbia river — the Hussy's, Yokums 
and Bransom brothers settling in 
Yamhill county. 

Our family joined with the Hill 
train and came into Oregon by the 
Southern route, following the Calif- 
ornia trail until we reached a point 
on the Humbolt river near where 
Winnanheca now stands. 

On this part of the trail we had 
trouble with the Indians, which I 
will relate in my next. 



Article V. 

After separating from our Illinois 
friends and taking the California 
trail our train consisted of twelve 
wagons and about twenty men, and 
during the remainder of our trip I 
do not remember meeting or seeing 
other trains, though there were many 
ahead of us and no doubt many be- 
hind us. 

By common consent Cornelius Hill 
was 'accepted as leader or captain. 

He had crossed the plains twice 
before, was then about thirty years 
old and had been married a short 
time before starting across the 
plains to Safrona Briggs. In ad- 
dition to an ox team that was shared 
with two younger brothers, he had 
a light wagon fitted up for himself 
and wife and drawn by horses. 

The most interesting natural phe- 
nomenon encountered on the trip 
were the Soda Springs on the Bear 
river, the point where we parted 
from our Illinois friends. 

The soda springs were numerous, 
scattered along a narrow creek bot- 
tom near Bear river. Around each 



Early Days in Oregon 



spring there had formed a mineral 
deposit, building up a cone several 
feet high, from the center of which 
the water bubbled. 

A short distance from the coda 
Bprings, in the bed of the river, the 
steamboat spring was spouting as 
regular as a clock, sending up a 
column of water ten to twenty feet 
high. The steamboat spring ceased 
its spouting some years ago, but the 
soda springs are said to be a great 
place of resort. 

Upon taking the California trail 
we traveled in a westerly direction 
and about fifty miles north of Salt 
Lake. The Mormon settlement at 
Salt Lake City, first established 
there in 1846-7, was about one hun- 
dred miles distant from our line of 
travel and we met no Mormons. 

At about our third ramp after tak- 
ing the California trail, just after 
daylight, a small band of Indians- 
six or eight in number — approached 
our camp on horseback. They were 
immediately signed to stop. They 
greated us with "How! How!", but 
were not allowed to approach camp. 
It was said to be a trick of the In- 
dians for a few to approach in a 
friendly manner. If they found the 
emigrants weak in numbers or care- 
less other Indians would straggle in 
until they would take the emigrants 
at a disadvantage. 

The Indians we met up with in 
Idaho and Nevada are said to have 
been of the Utes tribe and appeared 
to have been divided up in small 
bands. Although armed with rifles 
/they appeared to be of a poor quality. 



While Mr. Hill was ever watchful 
for the safety of the train he would 
take chances for himself. 

It was his custom to drive ahead 
to select camping places, or during 
the day he would go out ahead until 
he would find grass, then stop and 
let his horses graze. 

One day, when the road lay over 
a level plain with a range of low 
rocky hills close to our right, we 
passed Mr. and Mrs. Hill, where 
they had stopped to allow their hor- 
ses to graze near a small creek that 
flowed from a rocky gulch about 
two hundred yards from their wag- 
gon. After the train had passed Mr. 
Hill about three-fourths of a mile, I 
being with the loose cattle, heard 
some shots, and looking back, saw 
Mrs. Hill coming on horseback 
screaming "Indians" and lashing her 
horse to its utmst speed. Some dis- 
tance before reached where I was 
she fell from her horse, but the 
alarm was given. 

Nearly every man seized a gun and 
rushed back to the rescue, leaving 
the teams just as they were, with 
women and children practically un- 
protected. 

They found Mr. Hill sheltered by 
his wagon, exchanging shots with 
the Indians that appeared upon the 
top of a rocky hill out of range of 
rifle fire. 

It seems that after the train had 
passed three Indians appeared about 
fifty yards from Mr. Hill's wagon. 
When they found they were discov 
ered they called out "How! How!" 

Mr. Hill, not to be fooled by this 



16 



Early Days in Oregon 



show of friendship, covered them 
with his rifle and motioned them 
back. 

Mr. Hill was not to be caught by 
any "howdy-do" talk, but kept his 
gun pointed first at one and then an- 
other. The Indians gave back by 
falling in the grass and firing as 
they ran. 

Mr. Hill reserved his fire until 
they were about to enter the rockj 
canyon. Then he fired but was not 
sure that his shot had reached the 
mark. Soon after a bunch of In- 
dians appeared on a rocky butte, and 
the reinforcements reaching Mr. Hill 
there was a battle at long range in 
which there was more noise than 
bloodshed. 

Mrs. Hill was not seriously injured 
by the fall from the horse and im- 
mediately ran back to join her hus- 
band. I, with other boys, caught the 
horse and went back to join the 
war. By the time I arrived at the 
battlefield the Indians had disappear- 
ed behind the rocks. Evidently 
some of our rifle bullets were com- 
ing too close. 

About this time it was found that 
the train had been left unprotected. 
Almost all our fighting men had rush- 
ed to the rescue of Mr. Hill. The 
horses were hurriedly hitched to the 
wagon and all started to join the 
train. At this the Indians jumped 
out upon the rocks dancing and wav- 
ing their arms, no doubt claiming a 
great victory. 

Mr. Hill, no doubt, had by his 
courage and forethought, saved hie 
life. If he had fired when the In- 



dians were close to him they would 
have rushed him before he could re- 
load his muzzle loading rifle, and by 
1 taking shelter behind his wagon he 
kept the three Indians guessing 
which one would receive his fire. 
The Indian is an expert at dodging, 
so one can imagine these Indians 
running, falling, and rolling in mak- 
ing their getaway, at the same time 
firing at Mr. Hill, several of their 
bullets striking the wagon. 

As a result of this scrap with the 
Indians a conference was held with 
the elders of our train in which Mr. 
Hill explained that in the future the 
train should not be left unprotected 
in any case and a better understand- 
ing was had of what should be done 
in case we were attacked. 



Article VI. 

A few days after olr adventlre 
with the Indians we were overtaken 
late in the afternoon by two men 
on horseback and a man and woman 
in a light wagon with horse team. 
They had been attacked by Indians 
early in the morning, bdt had suc- 
ceeded in standing them off and 
made an all day run to overtake our 
train. 

The driver of the team professed 
to be an old plainsman and was a 
great talker. He claimed to be the 
bearer of dispatches from the Mor- 
mon settlement at Salt Lane City to 
California. From his loud talk and 
appearance we spoke of him after- 
wards as the "wild man". It was 
certainly a hazardous undertaking 
for three men, encumbered with a 



23 airly Days in Oregon 



£7 






wagon and team, through a country- 
infested with Indians. After travel- 
ing with us for one day to rest their 
horses, they passed on to overtake 
a train somewhere ahead, and these 
mysterious people were seen no more 
by us. 

Our next Indian trouble was near 
the Humboldt river. It was the 
custom for each wagon to take their 
turn to lead the train on account of 
the dust. John Welch (an unmar- 
ried man, whose brother had died 
at Loup river as heretofore related) 
was fastidious about dust and went 
ahead out of his turn. He said he 
would keep clear out ahead — that 
he preferred to take chances of the 
Indians than the dust. 

He found the Indians the first day. 
He was perhaps half a mile ahead 
and in plain sight of the train with 
his two wagons, one with horse team 
and with the Rhinehardt brothers as 
helpers, when he was fired upon by 
Indians at close range. One of me 
shots shattered the bone of his left 
arm above the elbow, but he succeed- 
ed in managing his team with one 
hand and to make his escape while 
the two Germans left the ox team 

d fell back to the main army. The 

dians shot one of the wheel oxen 
hich tangled up the team and then 

oted the wagon of things they 
ould easily carry and made their 
escape across the river into the wil- 
lows. The train coming up, Elijah 
Hill with some others, made a search 
but the Indians had made their get- 
away. 

Mr. Welch had a great hole thru 



his arm and the bone badly shat- 
tered. No one with the train hav- 
ing any surgical skill, my oldest sis- 
ter (afterwards Mrs. Merriman) was 
called on to dress the wound. Her 
fingers being slender, she could feel 
for and extract the shattered bones. 
I witnessed the operation and it 
made such an impression upon my 
mind that at times I can visualize 
the operation. My sister Aritnecia 
was a brave girl. • 

Mr. Welch made a good recovery. 

I recall another incident, while 
traveling along the Humboldt river, 
that was a near tragedy. My bro- 
there, J. B. (Bouse — then six years 
old) fell from the front of a wagon 
in such a manner that the fore wheel 
passed over his body diagonally from 
shoulder to hip. On the opposite 
side the driver of the team fortun- 
ately, snatched the boy from under 
the wagon before the hind wheel 
reached him. It was some time be- 
fore the boy regained consciousness. 
Fortunately no bones were broken, 
but it was a miraculous escape. 

At Black Rock desert, not far from 
the sink of the Humbol'dt river in 
Nevada, our train left the California 
trail, turning northeast across the 
desert, where we met with the most 
trying experience of the whole trip. 

Our teams had been rested by mak- 
ing short drives, and before leaving 
the river preparation was made for 
the trying ordeal of crossing a fifty 
mile desert with ox teams, and it 
was fortunate for us that we had the 
benefit of the knowledge and good 
judgment of Cornelius Hill. 



18 



Early Days in Oregon 



At the point where we left the 
Humboldt river the train was halted 
while Mr. Hill with his light wagon 
and horse team and with some men 
and tools drove out on the desert 
about ten miles where there were 
some rush springs. These were 
cleaned out so that they would fill 
with water and would afford some 
relief to the cattle. Every recept- 
ical that would hold water was filled 
from the river. Our family, and 
others, had small kegs that they had 
brought for just such emergencies. 

Our first days drive was out to the 
springs, reaching there in the after- 
noon. The cattle found some grass 
and some water. At about midnight 
a start was made across the desert. 

I might say that long before this 
time I had been promoted to driver 
of an ox team. I heretofore stated 
we started across the plains with a 
heavy carriage for the family. This, 
on account of the loss of a horse, 
was abandoned before we left the 
Platte river. My father picked up a 
light wagon to which was hitched 
our best yoke of oxen, two very 
large steers, Bill and John, and I, 
an eleven year old boy, was installed 
as driver, and I brought that outfit 
through without a mishap of any 
kind, but the credit should be given 
to Bill and John, the oxen. 

Our night drive across the desert 
was without incident. Our road lay 
across a perefctly level plain with- 
out growth of any kind, a sandy 
desert. 

Upon the coming of daylight we 
began to see evidence of disaster that 



had befell trains in former years. 
We were seldom out of sight of the 
carcasses of dead cattle. All appear- 
ed to be of a dun color, caused by 
alkali dust, and in the hot dry air 
of the desert the carcasses had simp- 
ly dried up. Most of them had lain 
there for five years. 

It was in the year 1846, just five 
years previous to our crossing, that 
the first emigrant train had crossed 
this desert over the route which we 
came. They were a large train, con- 
sisting of sixty or more wagons. I 
afterward personally knew some of 
the men who were with this train: 
Greenbery Smith, afterward a very 
wealthy resident of Benton county, 
and Hon. Tolbert Carter also of Ben- 
ton county. These men related some 
of their experiences to me. 

All alon gthe road were abandon- 
ed wagons, household goods of ev- 
ery description. Here would be a 
cogk stove, further on a plow, then 
the remains of a feather bed. It 
was remarked that one could find 
anything they wanted from this ab- 
andoned property and it was sur- 
prising to see what absurd things 
some would bring with them across 
the plains. On this desert we fosnd 
a cast iron machine that would 
weigh almost a ton — evidently some 
kind of a gold saving machine that 
some inventive genius had construc- 
ted and imagined that if he could 
reach a gold field he would make his 
fortune, but if the poor man had 
succeeded in bringing his machine 
through he would only have met with 
disappointment, for no such machin- 



JBrnrly Days in Oregon 



19 



ery ever proved a sudless. 

After the heat of the day rame on 
our little train of ox teams were 
srattered along the road. Often 
some of the oxen would berome so 
exhausted the team would be stopped 
and as long as the water lasted their 
tongues would be sponged. It is 
characteristic of oxen when they are 
very hot and thirsty that their 
tongues hang from their mouths. 
Many of the incidents of this day 
on the desert come before my mem- 
ory at the present time, one of which 
I will relate. 

Crossing the plains was said to 
be a test of a man's character. If 
he was of an overbearing or quarrel- 
some disposition, a day like that 
would develop these traits. 

In our train was a man that I 
will call B — who had quite a family 
of small children. With him was a 
young man who had furnished a 
part of the team and a share of the 
expenses of the trip across the 
plains. On this big good natured 
boy B — imposed in every way. The 
boy patiently endured the nagging 
and abuse. B — was not popular and 
the boy was advised to sever his 
partnership with him, but this he 
would not do on account of B's fam- 
ily being left stranded. Other young 
men advised him to give B a thresh- 
ing. 

This advice he did not take until 
that day o nthe desert. The heat 
and thirst had no doubt made B 
mere abusive than usual. It also 
had its effect on the boy, who had 



endured all he could, and when B, 
in addition to his abusive language, 
struck him with his whip stock "the 
worm turned" and promptly knocked 
B down and proceeded to wipe the 
desert sand with him. B called for 
mercy an dwhen released said: 
"Darn it, you know I am no figth- 
ing man". 

This incident caused a great deal 
of satisfaction to everyone except B 
perhaps, and made a more amiable 
man of him for the balance of the 
trip. 

By noon that day all the water 
we had brught in our wagons was 
exhausted, and those teams that 
were able pushed ahead until our 
train was stretched out for several 
miles. About this time we could see 
Black Rock looming up in the dis- 
tance and that point meant water 
and rest. 

Some of our teams reached the 
rock late :n the afternoon. Mr. K.'ll 
villi his hcrse team returned t~> 
meet the delayed teams with water 
for the thirsty people. I recall that 
the water was strongly impregnated 
with mineral and was very unpleas- 
ant to the taste, but it was wet and 
appeased the thirst and there were 
no unpleasant results from its use. 

At the close of the day all of the 
teams had reached camp in safety 
without the loss of a head of stock. 
This, judging from the wreckage 
strewn across the desert, was more 
than former imigrants had done. We 
were the pnly train following this 
rente in 1851. 



20 



J^ariy Days in Or&gon 



Article VII 

In my last article I gave an ac- 
count of crossing the Black desort 
The desert no doubt derived its name 
from a high rock or head land that 
appeared to he the termination of a 
range of hills. Near this rock we 
found several deep pools of water, as 
I remember them, about twenty feet 
across and perfectly round. 

The spring nearest the rock was 
scalding hot. A crust of some sub- 
stance had formed around the edge 
of the pool on which we were warn- 
ed not to venture. There were sev- 
eral of these pools, perhaps two hun- 
dred feet apart, the temperature 
lower in each until the last one was 
just right for bathing. 

We were obliged to guard our 
stock away from these pools, but 
there was other water for it. The 
water from these hot springs wa n 
very disagreebale to the taste. Black 
Rock and the hot springs remain in 
my mind as the greatest of nature's 
phenomena met with on our trip 
across the plains. 

Several days after passing Black 
Rock we passed through what was 
then known as High Rock canyon — 
another marvel of nature. The road 
followed a small creek for fifteen or 
twenty miles. There were at places 
over-hanging rocks on both sides 
with scant room for wagons to pass. 
In other places there would be small 
openings. In one of these we camp- 
ed about noon, in a narrow valley 
about a fourth of a mile Jong. Our 
camp was at the upper end of the 
valley and our stock was turned to 



graze down the creek. I am giving 
a more particular description of this 
camp on account of a discovery that 
was made that caused trouble in our 
train during the remainder of the 
trip. 

After lunch some of our party 
started out to scale a high rocky 
point on the west side of the valley. 
Another quartet were engaged in a 
game of cards with the only pack 
of cards in camp, while the stock 
were feeding peacefully down the 
creek. 

Some one of the men went down 
the valley to look at some wagons 
that had been abandoned and discov- 
ered what he at first supposed to be 
a grave that the Indians had dug 
into, as was their custom. On closer 
examination he discovered two bar- 
rels which the Indians had chopped 
into which he found contained whis- 
key. 

There was soon great excitement 
in camp. The mountain climbers 
came racing down; the card players 
dropped their cards (I mention this 
because the cards disappeared and 
it was thought that they had found 
their way into my mother's stove) ; 
and soon most of the camp was a- 
"<nind the cache. When further ex- N 
cavation was made, two more fifty 
gallon barrels were found to be in- 
tact — one of whiskey and one of 
brandy. From the fact that a hea- 
vy government wagon had been left 
standing over the cache, the conclu- 
sion was reached that it had been . 
abandoned by a government train 
several years before. 



JSar/y Days in Oregon 



Over this find occured the only 
real dissention that marred the har- 
mony of the train. Mr. Hill insisted 
that the stuff should be left, but this 
advice was not followed by all and 
there was a search for receptacles 
to carry the booze and water kegs 
were in demand. The only (near) 
preacher we had even filled the fam- 
ily churn. He did not want to damn 
his own soul by drinking, but said 
it would sell for so much money 
when he arrived in Oregon, and no 
doubt the party who would buy it 
was a hardened sinner anyway. For- 

- n -<•'"-]' -t 
empty bottles and the teams were 
too weak to haul a barrel of the 
stuff so most of it was left behind, 
but there was some animosity caused 
by the liquor that lasted the remain- 
der of the trip. 

After passing through High Rock 
canyon our route laid through what 
is now known as Surprise valley. S 
remember, in this valley, in lookirn 
on what appeared to be the bed ot 
a dried up lake, we saw what ap 
peared to be the most marvelous of 
monsters — larger than elephan'- 
Some of our men ventured out to 
investigate and when they approach 
ed, the monsters flew up into the an 
and turned into a flock of crows 
The effect of the sun's rays on th> 

mirage that had made a common 
crow appear as grotesque monsters 
Prom Surprise valley we crossed 
a spur of the Siamavada mountains, 
then called Plum creek mountain 
and camped near what is now knowr 



as Fandango creek, said to have tak- 
en its name from some imigrants 
having a dance when they were fired 
on by Indians. 

At this point we found an aband- 
oned wagon that had been loaded 
with books which had evidently been 
a law library. The books were, scat- 
tered in every direction and had been 
,here for several years. , 

From Fandango creek to Goose 
lake was a comparatively level coun- 
try. At times the country was so 
rocky that it was difficult to follow 
the road, and at other times the only 
evidence that we were right were 
the marks on the boulders made by 
•■'•■ tr ns. Qui 
route laid around the east end of 
Goose lake, thence west to "Tule" 
lake. We had seen no Indians since 
leaving the California trail on the 
Humboldt river. 

We approached Tule lake from tntr 
east, coming over a hill about a mile 
from the lake, a level plain covered 
with sage brush intervening. From 
the south — the direction of the lava 
beds — we saw a band of Indians ap- 
proaching at right angles to our 
road. 

The train was stopped and all fire 
arms were inspected. Those thai 
had been loaded for some time wer< 
discharged and reloaded and every- 
thing was made ready for trouble. 

Our train at the time, as I recall, 
consisted of twelve wagons, about 
sixty head of loose cattle, sixteen 
men, not fully armed, and four boys 
with guns, of whom I was one. 

Before we had reached the slope 



22 



ISarly Days in Oregon 



leading to the lake's level the In- 

ans had approached within a hun- 
dred yards of the train. We halted 
and motioned for the Indians to stop. 
My father, with two other men, went 
out to meet them. The parley wa< 
by signs. 

The Indians pointed down to a 
clear space on the level of the !ai e 
that was covered with what appear- 
ed to be small hay cocks which v. p 
understood they did not want d'tS- 
turbed. These apparent hay cccks 
no doubt contained' the seeds of a 
water : ily one of their chuc articles 
of focd, which, in after yaar> I saw 
the- Klamath Indians gathering in 
groat quantities. 

The Indians were motioned to keep 
back away from the train. Mr. Mill 
had given Mrs. Hill charge of the 
horses. The teams moved up "lose 
together with the loose cattle herded 
in close to the wagons. Every man 
that could be spared from managing 1 
the teams were placed at vantage 
points, when the train started down 
the rocky slope. Before we had 
moved far the Indians appeared on 
both sides, close up to the wagons. 
At that time the Modock Indians 
were over a hundred warriors strong 
and they must have all been there. 

They were armed with bows and 
arrows with one exception. One buck 
made a great display with a rifle, 
but on nearer approach it was dis- 
covered that it lacked a lock. 

The fact that these Indians were 
rll buck's was an indication that they 
meant m'schief, but the only dem- 
on st rat : on they made was one of 



them rushed up to one of our men 
who was driving a team and grabbed 
hold of a revolver and tried to take 
it. Mr. Hill, who was near, called 
to the man not to shoot and the In- 
dian soon gave up the attempt to be 
the possessor of a "pepper box" as 
the Allen six shooter of that day 
was called. 

After passing through this band 
of warriors and reaching the level 
of the lake our road laid between a 
tule marsh that surrounded the lake 
at this point, and an over-hanging 
bluff of rocks, for almost a half mile. 
At places there was barely room for 
the wagons to pass- between the 
marsh and the rocks. At oner* of 
these points a lot of squaws were 
sitting in a row across the road. 

Our teams were in the lead that 
day and a young man named "Jack" 
Middleton was driving the lead and 
my team was next. The squaws 
were motioned to move, which they 
refused to do, and the whole train 
was halted until Jack stepped to the 
front with his ox whip and com- 
menced rapidly cracking it close to 
their faces. The explosions must 
have sounded to the squaws like ar- 
tillery fire and they soon scattered 
into the tules. I might say here that 
the tules, or rushes, were from four 
to ten feet high and extended a mile 
or more from the lake at the season 
of the year that we were there — its 
low stage — so that the Indians had 
an excellent hiding place. 

We could see their heads, looking 
like so many blackbirds. 

We reached open ground without 



Early Days in Oregon 



be*r.g attacked. We had passed what 
is now known as Bloody Point in 
safety which, from a knowledge of 
events of later years, seems a mar- 
velous escape. 

The Indians evidently had intend- 
ed to attack us when they surround- 
ed us as we approached the lake. 
The absence of squaws was evidence 
of this design, but our show of pre- 
paredness held them in check. No 
doubt the sight of our men with rifles 
at "ready" restrained them. The 
Modocks at that time numbered over 
a hundred warriors and they must 
have all been there. It seems at 
this time, that if they had known 
their power, they could have stam- 
peded our teams* and with their ar- 
rows and numbers, could have sent 
twenty arrows to one shot from our 
guns. At this time I can visualize 
our teams stampeded, wagons over- 
turned and confusion generally. But 
the Indians did not know their pow- 
er and they overrated our strength 
and then the Indian seldom attacks 
in the open. His tactics are to fire 
from ambush, or a surprise. 

In 1852, the year following our 
passing under Bloody Point, there 
was a large imigration by this route 
and all trains not strongly guarded 
were attacked at this point, some of 
them being totally anihilated. 

When the news reached Yreka that 
many trains with women and chil- 
dren were on the road, and their 
danger, two companies were hastily 
»organized and sent to the rescue. 
Also a company under Col. John 
Ross from Jacksonville, Oregon. 



When these companies arrived at 
Bloody Point they found a train sur- 
rounded under the rocky bluffs with 
ammunition about exhausted and two 
men wounded. These they rescued 
and in addition they found and bur- 
ied fifty mutilated bodies, including 
women and children. 

I relate these facts to show how 
narrow was our escape the year be- 
l re. 

Article'VIII 

After our experience with the Mo- 
doc Indians and passing Bloody 
Point, our route lay on the east 
bank of Lost river near which camp 
was struck and every precaution to 
resist a night attack was made. 

Every available man did guard 
duty at some time during the- night. 
Several times our sentries would hear 
Indians approaching through the 
high dry grass, but upon the crack 
of a rifle the Indian would jump to 
his feet and run. No doubt the In- 
dians object was to pick off a sentry 
or to fire arrows into our cattle. 

However, morning dawned without 
any casualties on our part and we 
were soon on the move. 

At about ten o'clock that day a- 
bout twenty Indians were discovered 
approaching us from a hillside on 
horseback, their horses on the run. 
This created great excitement with 
us and we commenced forming a cor- 
ral with our wagons. 

When the Indians were within a- 
bout two hundred yards of us and 
discovered our preparations, they all 
except two, stopped. These took off 
their head coverings, made signs of 



24 



ISaurly Days in Oregon 



peace and rode into camp. They 
proved to be a band of Warm Springs 
Indians, perhaps Umatillas. They 
could speak enough English to be 
understood, and when we told them 
about the Modocs, they said they 
were looking for them and would see 
that we were not molested further. 
These Indians were very friendly and 
gave us youngsters dried venison. 

I might say here that these In- 
dians were several hundred miles 
from their own country, and I af- 
terwards learned that it was their 
custom to make forays into the Mo- 
doc tribes to capture young boys and 
girls and adopt them into their tribe. 

At the time of which I write the 
Modocs had neither horses nor guns 
and their greatest protection was to 
hide in the tules or small islands in 
the lake, and the lava beds which 
are a labyrinth of caves almost in- 
accessible and easily defended. It 
was in these lava beds that they 
made their last stand in 1872, and 
although only numbering thirty or 
forty warriors, they held at bay six 
or seven hundred regular soldiers 
and volunteers for several months, 
until they were starved out. 

At one time a detachment of 36 
men (regulars) entered the lava 
beds in search of Capt. Jack and his 
men. All were killed except one who 
escaped by feigning death. 

I relate the above to show the 
desperate character of these Indians. 
It is a part of the history of the In- 
dian wars of Oregon. 

After parting with the friendly 
Warm Springs Indians we continued 



our journey, crossing the Lost river 
at the natural bridge. This so-called 
bridge was merely a ledge of rocks 
shoaling the water where it passed 
over it. Lost river at this point is 
a deep sluggish, narrow stream with 
high banks and no trees or brush 
along its banks. It was at this 
point that "Ben" Wright inflicted a 
terrible punishment upon the Modoc 
tribe. I trust my readers will par- 
don my giving a synopsis of the 
event, as related in Vitor's History 
of Indian Wars of Oregon: 

Ben Wright was captain of a com- 
pany of miners volunteered to pro- 
tect imigrants passing through the 
Modoc country, in which they ren- 
dered splendid service, but were not 
able to inflict what Wright thought 
adequate punishment. 

Wright was what might be termod 
an Indian killer. When the season's 
travel of imigrants of 1852 had pass- 
ed, Wright returned to Yreka, se- 
cured a boat, and with eighteen men 
well outfitted, returned to the Mo- 
doc country. It was rumored and 
believed that there were two white 
women held as prisoners by the In- 
dians. Wright, with his boat, was 
able to reach the islands in Tule 
lake where the Indians made their 
homes. In these raids they captured 
four Modocs, whom they held an 
hostages. Wright hoped to find the 
white prisoners on these islands, but 
was disappointed. As to what he did 
find, history relates as follows: 

"That which Wright did find wer*- 
the proofs that many, very many per- 
sons, including, women and children 



JB airly Days in Oregon 



25 



had been cruelly tortured and butch- 
ered. Here again the men of his 
company, some of whom had families 
two or three thousand miles away, 
burst forth into tears of rage at the 
sight of women's dresses and babies 
socks among the property plundered 
from the owners. Where now were 
the men and women who had toiled' 
over these thousands of miles to 
meet their fate at this place? Where 
the prattling babies whose innocent 
feet fitted the tiny socks? Even their 
bones were undiscovered, but the 
proofs that they had lived and died 
were heaped up in the wickiups of 
these cruel slayers." 

Wright, with his eighteen men, af- 
ter raiding the islands, camped on 
the high bank of Lost river near 
the natural bridge. He had held lis 
four prisoners. With these he com- 
municated, using an Indian boy who 
was part Modoc and spoke their lan- 
guage, as interpreter. (I might say 
here that Ben Wright had a squaw 
wife, and the boy was a part of his 
family. ) 

One of the prisoners was released 
and instructed to tell the tribe that 
if they would bring the white pris- 
oners and all property they had taken 
from the imigrants Wright and his 
men would depart and leave their 
country alone. 

The result was that forty-five war- 
riors appeared with a few old broken 
(i w n horses. The Indians were in- 
dolent and told Wright "You have 
•G Indian prisoners. We outnum- 
ber you and can hold your men pris- 
oners". 



The Indians camped upon the 
lower bank between Wright's camp 
and the river. Wright's position was 
critical. He felt that a net was 
spread for him and that only des- 
perate measures would extricate him 
from his perilous situation. He re- 
^olyed upon a surprise attack on the 
Indians at night. 

He sent six men, by way of the 
stone bridge, to the opposite side of 
the river to await his direct attack 
at daylight. This arrangement was 
faithfully carried out and at daylight 
next morning Wright himself walk- 
ed down among the Indians and shot 
a young warrior dead and in twenty 
minutes the battle was over and 42 
Indians lay dead. 

Another story was that the beef 
given the Indians to feast upon had 
been impregnated with strychnine 
and that many of them were dead 
or paralyzed from the effects of the 
poison before they were shot. This 
version was vehemently denied by 
Wright's men, but these stories great- 
ly dimmed the fame of Ben Wright. 
To my mind it seems incredible that 
eighteen men, armed with the old 
muzzle loading rifle, could kill 42 
out of 50 Indians in so short a time, 
knowing as I do what an expert run- 
ner and dodger the Indian was. 

However this greatly weakened 
the Modoc tribe and they did not 
trouble white men for many years. 

I again met up with these Modocs 
in 1864 in this way. It was when I 
was a soldier during the Civil war 
and was stationed at Port Klamath. 
The state superintendent of Indian 



2G 



Early Days in Oregon 



affairs, J. W. P. Huntington (the 
grandfather of Ben Huntington one 
time school supervisor residing here 
in Riddle) came to Fort Klamath 
to arrange for a gerat meeting of 
the Klamath, Modoc, Piutes and Pitt 
river Indians. I was well known to 
T£r. Huntington, and at his request, 
I was detailed to accompany him and 
to select another man of our com- 
pany. I selected James Weaver, a 
brother of Ed Weaver our present 
county commissioner, and with Lieut. 
P. C. Underwood, a party of four 
went to meet the Modocs. With us 
was a party of Klamath Indians 
headed by LaLake, the head chief. 

We met the Modocs on Link river 
near where Klamath Falls is now 
situated. At this meeting were the 
leading braves of the entire Modoc 
band. Chief Sconchin, a very old 
(Indian, was the only one I learned 
the name of, but no doubt Captain 
Jack and Shagnasty Jim, made fa- 
mous in their outbreak in 1872 were 
there. I was there as interpreter for 
the superintendent and the Klamath 
Indian for the Modocs. 

I would say here that the Klamath 
Indians and Modocs were inter-re- 
lated to some extent, but were her- 
editory enemies. 

At this meeting the Modocs were 
surly and defiant, but arrangements 
were made ofr a general meeting of 
the tribes two months later near 
Fort Klamath for the purpose of 
making a general treaty as well be- 
tween the Indians themselves as be- 
tween the whites and the Indians, to 
which the Modocs faithfully com- 



plied and the treaty of 1864 was the 
result and the Klamath Indian res- 
ervation was established, on which 
Klamath, Modocs and a few of the 
Pitt rivers and Piutes were estab- 
lished and remained until 1 the Modoc 
outbreak in 1872 in which the lava 
beds and the Modocs were made fa- 
mous and are part of the history of 
the Indian wars of Oregon. 
Article IX 

After leaving Lost river at the 
stone bridge our route lay around 
the south end of lower Klamath 
lake, crossing Klamath river about 
six miles below where the town of 
Keno is now situated. The ford was 
rocky and deep, with a swift current 
and I, by the advice of someone, 
crawled on the back of Bill, my big 
near ox, and rode across the river. 
I did that for the reason that the 
current might catch the light wagon 
and turn it over. I always remem- 
bered that ford for one reason — I 
broke my whipstock and lost my lash. 
In later years, in looking at this 
ford, I wondered how ox teams could 
safely cross it. 

From Klamath river our route lay 
over Green Spring mountain about 
where the road is now located from 
Ashland to Klamath Falls. This 
range of mountains we crossed with- 
out incident except that in approach- 
ing Jenny creek we had to descend 
a long steep hill so steep no kind of 
lock (wagon brakes were unknown 
those days) would hold the wagons, 
so drags were made from tree tops 
to hold the wagons from crowding 
the teams. It ,was quite dark before 



JSnr-ly Days in Oregon 



7 



all the wagons reached camp. Near 
Ashland we connected with the main 
road or trail from Oregon to Calif- 
ornia. Here we met pack trains car- 
rying supplies to the mines at Yreka 
and northern California. My father 
bought a side of bacon of the pack- 
ers at 75 cents a pound. We had 
started across the plains with more 
than ample supplies but other fam- 
ilies in our train were destitute by 
the time they were half way and had 
to be supplied from the stores of 
others. 

Speaking of pack trains, I would 
say here that all the supplies for the 
mines in the early fifties were trans- 
ported by pack train. These trains 
as they were called, consisted of from 
ten to sometimes more than a hun- 
dred mules and the average load per 
mule would be 250 pounds. Many 
of the larger trains were Mexican 
and they were the best equipped. 
Their mules were small but well 
trained. 

When camp was made for the 
night each mule's load was placed to 
itself and the aparajo (pack saddle) 
placed in front of th^ load. When 
driven in for reloading the "bull 
mare" was led to the head of the 
line and each mule lined up J ire ;tly 
in front of its own pack. All mule 
trains had one horse called the "bull 
mare that was ridden by a boy in 
the lead of the train. The mules 
would follow the bell. When strung 
out on the mountain trails they 
seemed to keep step or step in the 
same places until the earth on hill 
trails was pressed down or dug out 



to resemble stairs. 

We met several pack trams as we 
continued our journey through the 
beautiful Rogue river valley. At that 
time its primitive beauty had not 
been marred by the hand of the 
white man. Our home seekers must 
have regretted that they could not 
at that time settle upon the fertile 
soil of Bear creek valley, but we 
were in the Indian country. 

At the time we passed through the 
Rogue river valley there were no 
settlements of any kind and we met 
no prospectors, but later in the fall 
of 1851 gold was discovered at Jack- 
sonville, which caused that country 
to settle up rapidly in 1852. We met 
with very few Indians in the Rogue 
river country and those we met were 
friendly. I recall that at our camp 
on Rogue river, directly opposite 
Gold Hill (when I give the name of 
places in this story, it is the present 
name), we were visited by Indians 
that brought some splendid salmon 
for trade and we all had a feast of 
that king of fish. 

We forded the Rogue river some- 
where above Grants Pass and our 
passage over the Grave creek, Wolf 
creek and Cow creek hills were un- 
eventful. I remember that it was 
almost dark when we made camp at 
Grave creek. There we saw the 
grave where a Miss Leland had been 
burried. I mention this because this 
grave will be alluded to later in my 
story. 

A Miss Leland with the first emi- 
grant train passing over this road, 
in 1846, had died at this point and 



*J& 



JBetT-ly Days in Oregon 






the emigrants, knowing the habits of 
the Indians to desecrate graves, had 
tried to conceal the place, but the 
Indians had found the grave and ex- 
humed the body, leaving a wide deep 
hole. 

When we arrived at the south end 
of the canyon we camped by the 
small creek just south of the Johns' 
place. Here we met I. B. Nichols 
for the first time. He was on his 
way south with his pack train with 
supplies for the mines at Yreka, 
California. One of his party had 
killed a fat buck and we were gen- 
erously supplied with venison. I re- 
member that "Nick" brought the 
head to our camp to show us the 
antlers, and to the head was an 
ample share of neck. This found 
its way into my mother's pot, and to 
us hungry emigrants was a feast in- 
deed. 

In my next I will relate our ex- 
periences in passing through the Can- 
yon, which will be a story in itself. 
Article X. 

With our train was a man whose 
excentricities afterwards made him 
well known to the early settlers of 
southern Douglas county. When in- 
troducing himself he would say "I 
am Charles W. Beckwith of York 
state." His vernacular was of the 
down east yankee. No one was ever 
known to tell a story or make a 
statement so extraordinary that 
Beckwith could not exceed it by 
something that had come under his 
personal observation, mostly "back 
in York state". 

Beckwith settled upon the land 



that is now owned by J. A. Worth- 
ington. east of Canyonville and many 
of the Baron Munchausen Beckwith 
stories are still current in that neigh- 
borhood. 

Beckwith was nervous or energet- 
ic in his movements and had a pe- 
culiar manner of driving his ox 
team. His near wheel ox was named 
Colonel — an old brindle ox that seem- 
ed to be discouraged with life in 
this world and was in no hurry to 
arrive at his destination in Oregon. 
Beckwith would walk up to the lead- 
ers of his team, then turn around 
and walk rapidly back and give- Col- 
onel a cut of the whip in the flank 
saying "Gee up Camel behind here. 
What you about?" This he would 
repeat hundreds of times a day and 
in doing so walked about one and 
a half times across the plains. 

He became noted for his yankee 
tricks in securing advantages, so on 
the morning we started through the 
canyon he was off in the lead, out 
of his turn, saying that the rood 
would be so narrow that other teams 
could not pass him, so would be 
obliged to help him through. At that 
time the road or trail followed the 
creek from the south end to the sum- 
mit, crossing small streams many 
times, through heavy timber. 

Our train had not advanced f?r 
until we came upon Beckwith with 
his team stuck in the mud. "Carnel" 
was hopelessly mired and refused to 
make an effort. There was a lot of 
unprintable language) indulged in, 
not complimentary to Mr. Beckwith. 
"Carnel" was pulled out of the mud 



JSstx*ly Days in Oregon 



'JO 



and the train got around Beckwitb 
some way and made him take his 
proper place among the hindmost 
teams. I would say here that by 
arrangement, in our train, each fam- 
ily took their turn in leading. The 
last I remember of the poor old 
"Camel" he was laying beside the 
trail. A yoke of oxen was no doubt 
supplied from other teams to help 
the Beckwith family through. 

Our train made fair progress until 
we arrived at a point where the 
south end of the Hildebrand grade 
connects with the old road. There we 
passed over a ridge on the north 
side of the creek, then down a steep 
hill in the bed of the creek. At thi^ 
hill ropes were attached to the wag 
ons, with men holding, to prevent 
the wagons running onto teams or 
overturning. On reaching the creek 
bed our route lay right in the bed 
for one and a half miles, the slope 
of the mountains coming right down 
to the water on both sides. Now, do 
not imagine that that creek bed was 
a smooth pebbly bottom. On the 
contrary it was covered with boul- 
ders from the size of a pumpkin to 
a haycock. I recall that the lead 
teams, on being let down into the 
creek, moved. right on without ref- 
erence to those behind. 

It was about four o'clock in the 
afternoon that our teams left the 
creek's bed. We had then made a- 
bout five miles. At this point we 
met some men who had come up 
from "Knott's" station near Canyon- 
ville, to help us through the canyon. 

I might say that somewhere on 



Rogue river an Indian boy about my 
age had joined our train and had 
attached himself to me and that dur- 
ing the day one wheel of my light 
wagon had passed over his foot and 
I had him ride in my wagon. One 
of the men, seeing me, a boy, driv- 
ing a yoke of oxen, thought it a 
chance to help, took my whip and 
started Bill and John at a faster gait 
than usual. The result was the wag- 
on was overturned before he had 
made a hundred yards and my In- 
dian boy friend was rolled into the 
creek. 

At this point I was sent ahead 
with the loose stock, arriving at the 
north end of the canyon after dark. 
A part of the train had come through 
and were camped just across the 
bridge south from Canyonville. 

I don't remember /where I slept, 
that night, but I am sure I was sup- 
perless, but found friends next morn- 
ing who gave me breakfast. 

By noon of the second day our 
teams had arrived at camp after 
passing the worst ten miles of road 
between the Missouri river and civil- 
ization in Oregon, for here we found 
the first house in Oregon. 
Article XI 

Some of my readers know of the 
conditions of this canyon road for 
the last fifty years— changes that 
have been made costing hundreds of 
thousands of dollars. Many of you 
know of the improvements that are 
being made at this time that will be 
completed within the year, costing 
over two hundred thousand dollars. 
When paved it will only be a thirty 



3D 



JSarly Days in Oregon 



- 

ery 



minute drive with an automobile 
over one of the finest scenic roads 
in the world. 

We arrived at Canyonville Sep- 
tember 20. We had made our start 
from Illinois near the first of April. 
We had had five months and two 
weeks continuous travel. We had 
encountered floods and deserts. We 
had endured heat, dust, thirst and 
hunger. We had run the gauntlet 
(as you might say) of hostile In- 
dians, but we had arrived at our 
destination without loss of any of 
our family or suffering any serious 
illness. 

When I read the accounts of other 
imigrants crossing the plains and 
their sufferings, my story seems 
tame indeed. But my readers must 
be impressed with the difference in 
the manner of traveling across the 
country from the Missouri river to 
Oregon then and now. The average 
time for the emigrant with ox teams 
was six months. Now, for the tour- 
ist traveling in a palace car requires 
four days; or if by airplane in 20 
hours. 

It has been estimated that up to 
1860 three hundred thousand people 
had crossed the plains to Oregon and 
that the route was lined by twenty 
thousand graves. 

As I approach the end of my story 
of crossing the plains I look back 
over the 69 years since we started 
on that memorable journey and many 
incidents come back to my mind 
that happened to me personally 
which I have omitted. 

One of my adventures I will re- 



late. I was the owner of a ve 
highly ornamented rifle. Its effec- 
tive range was about thirty yards, 
but I, boyilke, thought that all I 
lacked to bag big game was the op- 
portunity. On the Sweetwater we 
had made an early camp, so here 
was my opportunity for adventure. 
I managed to slip away from camp 
with my squirrel gun and a mile or 
more from camp, from the top of a 
rock I fired at some antelope at 
easy range for our modern guns un- 
til my ammunition was exhausted 
without any effect on the antelope 
except that some of the herd came 
closer to me. The shots from the 
high rock prevented them from lo- 
cating the sound of the shots. When 
I told my story I was forbidden to 
wander from camp in the future. 

This ends my story of crossing the 
plains. I hope I have not taxed my 
readers' patience too far. 

In my next I will relate incidents 
in connection with the early settle- 
ment of Douglas county. 

In my last I stated that on our 
arrival at where Canyonville is now 
situated we had reached our desti- 
nation. By that I meant to say we 
had found the first settler in Oregon. 

At this point we parted company 
with the other families and young 
men that we had traveled with for 
five months, and with one exception 
there had been no friction or dissat- 
isfaction of any kind and the part- 
ing was with mutual friendship and 
esteem. Toward Cornelius Hill all 
must have felt a deep sense of grati- 
tude. Without his experience and 



JBaLi'ly Days in Oregon 



31 



knowledge of the route we could ing my father the country and 
never have some through without brought him to Cow creek valley. 
great loss o flives and property. I My father was impressed with the 
know that in our family the name beauty of the valley and selected 
of Cornelius Hill was always held ! what is now Glenbrook farm. 



in the greatest esteem. 

When our train arrived at Can- 
yonville, provisions were abut ex- 
hausted. * 

The Hills and Briggs family and 
in fact all our friends hurried on to 
the Willamette valley. Mr. Hill set- 
tled on the McKenzie east of Eugene 
where he spent a long and usefull 
life. The Briggs family returned 
early the next year and located in 
Orchard Valley, their donation claim 
covering both sides of the river, and 
Charles W. Beckwith (of York 
state) located the land where J. A 
Worthington now lives. 

Our family remained at Canyon- 
ville two or three days while my 
father looked the country over for 
a location. In this he was greatly 
assisted by Joseph Knott woh had 
settled on the land where Canyon- 
ville now stands during the summer 
of 1851. 

Knott was a man of intelligence 
and energy but of domineering dis- 
position. He sold out the Canyon 
location in 1852, settling upon a do- 
nation claim near Sutherlin after- 
wards moving to Portland where he 
and his sons owned the first steam 
ferry on the Willamette river. 1 
give this account of Mr. Knott for 
the reason of his prominence in the 
early history of Douglas county and 
Oregon. 

Mr. Knott was very kind in show- 



The black soil, the two mountain 
branches crossing the little valley, 
the nearness of the mountains fur- 
nishing a splendid out range for cat- 
tle, all impressed him. 

My father returned the following 
day, felled some small pine trees 
and formed the (foundation \of a 
house exactly where the Glenbrook 
farm house now stands. At that 
time four logs laid in the shape of 
a house would hold a claim. The* 
whole country was open to settle- 
ment and jumping a claim was an 
unpardonable act. 

After my father had located his 
claim we resumed our journey, in- 
tending tOj go Ito the Willamette 
valley for the winter and return the 
next spring. North of Canyonville 
we forded the Umpqua river three 
times within one mile. On reaching 
the point near where J. J. Johns 
now lives my mother, on looking 
over the beautiful valley land, ex- 
claimed, "Oh, here is the place for 
us to settle." On rounding the hill 
we came upon a little log house oc- 
cupied by William Weaver (known 
as "Uncle Billy), father of the late 
John Weaver whose family now oc- 
cupy the farm. 

The next house was that of John 
and Henry Adams who were bach- 
elors at the time, and I think their 
aged father and one sister were with 
them. 



32 



Hnrly Days in .-Oregon 



Our first camp ' after leaving Can- 
yonville was on \ the bank of the 
South Umpqua near Round Prairie. 
I remember follfwing my father over 
this beautiful little valley, closely 
examinirig the soil by turning it up 
with a mattox. 

Our next days drive we passed over 
Roberts mountain, the road then lay- 
ing up the small creek as you ap- 
proach the foot of the mountain 
from the south, passing over near 
the residence of the late Plinn Coop- 
er, to Roberts creek. Here we 
found the fourth settler in Oregon — 
Jesse Roberts. 

I hope my readers will pardon me 
for giving brief mention of pioneers 
as I progress with my story — they 
were the empire builders. 

Jesse Roberts was a man of great 
energy and natural ability, but with- 
out education. He moved from Polk 
county, Oregon, early in the spring 
of 1851, settling where we found 
him, at Roberts creek. He had 
brought with him five hundred head 
of Spanish cattle. These cattle were 
very wild and fierce — so much so that 
it was very dangerous for a foot 
man to appear among them, though 
they were easily managed on horse- 
back, as they seemed to be trained 
to go the corral when started from 
the range. There appeared to be 
an old cow that would take the lead. 
I have seen Roberts two sons, George 
and Nels, aged about twelve and fif- 
teen, on their cow ponies, start sev- 
eral hundred head of these cattle 
from their range around Greens sta- 
tion, head them for their corral two 



miles up Roberts creek, all going on 
the run fairly making 1jhq( earth 
shake. 

When we arrived at the Roberts 
place we were treated with the great- 
est kindness by Mr. Roberts. We 
were furnished with all the fresh 
and dried beef we could use, free of 
cost. This was a gfe&t treat to 
hungry emigrants, especially the 
dried beef to us boys. The dried 
beef was cured by cutting the meat 
in strips, salted, then hung on ropes 
and dried in the sun, perhaps aided 
by fire and smoke. 

Mr. Roberts persuaded my father 
to abandon his plans of going to the 
Willamette valley for the winter, but 
to leave the family in camp near his 
place and go on with the ox teams 
for supplies, which he did, and on 
returning, we returned to what was 
afterward our home at Glenbrook 
farm — the first donation claim lo- 
cated in the Cow creek valley. 

Before closing this number of my 
story I would say that Jesse Roberts, 
a few years after our arrival, be- 
came interested in Canyonville, 
built the flouring mill now standing 
there, and engaged in other busi- 
ness. His ehrds of cattle and dona- 
tion claim were disposed of, and per- 
haps for the reason that he was not 
able to keep accounts, trusting to 
Tom, Dick and Harry, his fortune 
was soon dissipated. 

Jesse Roberts was a man of fine 
appearance — generous and likeable, 
and as a stockman was a peer. He 
had a large family. George Roberts 
of Canyonville }s a son, Mrs. Cyrus 



JSfirly Days in Oregon 



3 :; 



Russell is a daughter, and John Arz- ' come from every direction. This 



ner a grandson. 

In my next will be an account of 
our first meeting with Mi-wu-leta, 
chief of the Cow creek Indians. 
Article XII 

In writing a sketch of my recollec- 
tions of Miwaleta, chief of the Cow 
Creek Indians, I must necessarily 
include many of the incidents of the 
early settlement of Southern Oregon. 
Our first meeting with the Cow Creek 
Indians was in, the latter part of Ost- 
ober, 1851, when my father with his 
family moved onto his donation 
rlaim, or what is now known as 
Glenbrook Farms. At that time the 
nearest house was the Wm. Weaver 
hiouse, eight miles netejr^r Myrtle 
Creek, and Canyonville, where Joe 
Knott was lohated, and which was 
the frontier house in Southern Ore- 
gon, not a house south of that in 
the territory. 

At that time my father's family 
ronsisted of my father and mother, 
three daughters, one a widow with a 
child two years old, and four sons, 
one older and two younger than my- 
self, a sister of my mother, a spin- 
ster, and an orphaned dousin, a girl 
eleven years old at that time; and 
in addition, two young men who 
drove the ox teams. I was not quite 
twelve years old then. I remember 
that we arrived at our destination at 
about 3 o'rlock in the afternoon and 
camped under the oak tree that now 
stands in the yard immediately north 
of the Glenbrook farm house. In a 
ve'y short time our camp was sur- 
ro -nded by Indians who seemed to 



caused u sno alarm. They came from 
curiosity— old Indians, squaws, pa- 
pooses and all came to the number 
of a hundred or more. They were 
curious about everything — the child- 
ren were objects of interest, many of 
them never having seen a white 
child. A cook stove was set up and 
a fire started in it, which excited 
their wonder and curiosity. One 
young buck came in contact with the 
hot stove pipe on his naked shoulder, 
which caused a leap and yell from 
the buck, but uproarious laughter on 
the part of the crowd. The Indians, 
although friendly and good natured, 
were crowding so clsely about the 
camp that my mother and sisters 
were unable to prepare the evening 
meal, and this situation was becom- 
ing embarrassing. At that time we 
heard the word, "Miwaleta, Miwal- 
eta," a hush fell upon the crowd, and 
an Indian appeared whose presence 
and appearance showed that he was 
one in authority. He was a man be- 
tween sixty and seventy vears old, 
about six feet tall, ci he" 75; build, 
wivij full, round fac% at leant as I 
renunber him, \»fth none of the 
narl ed features of the moving pic- 
ture Indian. The Indians seemed to 
regard him with reverence, more 
than fear. My father advanced lo 
meet him, and by signs made him 
understand that he wanted the In- 
dians to stand back out of the way, 
which they did, forming a circle 
around our camp where they seated 
themselves upon the ground or 
squatted upon their heels. My mother 



34 



Early Days in Oregon 



offered the chief a chair, which he 
declined, but seated himself upon his 
blanket on the ground. My father 
proceeded to tell him by signs that 
we had come to live there, that he 
would build a house. Neither of them 
could speak a word that the other 
could understand, but they seemed 
to arrive at a mutual understanding 
and liking that endured during the 
lifetime of Miwaleta. 

During the sign language confer- 
ence, an incident occured which in 
a way will illustrate the character of 
Miwaleta, and greatly impressed my 
mother. A very handsome Indian 
boy about 11 years old detached 
himself from th$ crowd and came 
near the chief, stretching himself at 
full length on his stomach near the 
chief. (This boy, I afterwards learn- j 
ed, was a son of Miwaleta's son, who 
was dead). The old man's hand went | 
out and rested on the boy's head. ; 
My mother said she knew from that 
that he was a good Indian. At the! 
close of the sign interview, my I 
father offered the chief food, which 
he accepted, giving a portion to the 
boy. The boy, who was named Sam, 
and myself were afterwards boor 
companions, and in a few month? 
had learned the Chinook jargon, Sam 
learning a great many English words 
while I learned the native Indian: 
and through this medium, with Sam 
and myself as interpreters, a perfect 
understanding was had between the 
chief and my father, it being under- 
stood that any overt act of the In 
dians should be referred to the chief 
but so far as our family was con 



cerned, there never was any trouble 
of any consequence. 

At the time of which I write, Mi 
waleta was the chief of five bands ot 
Indians, all of whom comprised a- 
bout two hundred souls, by far the 
strongest tribe of the Umpqua Val- 
ley. They spoke the same language 
as the Rogue River Indians, or In- 
dians as far south as the Siskiyous 
But the f Rogue River Indians were 
the hereditary enemies of the Mi- 
waletas, and they termed all the 
southern Indians "Shastas". 

The bands were divided about as 
follows, and each band and chief has 
the name of the locality where they 
made their home: All the north side 
of the creek in Cow Creek Valley 
was Miwaleta's, and the Indians num- 
bered about 75. The south side ol 
the creek was Quintiousa, the head 
man took the same name, and was 
sometimes called Augunsah, the 
name of the country of the South 
Umpqua east of Canyonville; the 
Quintiousas were about fifty strong. 
The Targunsans were about twenty- 
five. Their head man was called 
"Little Old Man." And in the Cow 
Creek country east of Glendale was 
a band of twenty-five or thirty whose 
head man was named "Warta-hoo." 
In addition to the above there was 
a band known as the Myrtle Creek 
Indians, about forty in number, but 
who their chief was I never knew 
There wree three of their numbe 
who were always making trouble 
Curley, who was a large, powerfi 
young Indian, Big Ike and I^ttje 
Jim. > T w 



si,nrly Days in Oregon 



All the Indians north of Myrtle 
Creek spoke a different language, 
and were considered a different peo- 
ple, although they had more or less 
intercourse. 

Over the Myrtle Creek, Targun- 
saw, Warta-hoo and Quintiousa 
hands, Miwaleta was head chief, and 
although there was often trouble be- 
tween these bands, they held to- 
gether against the Shastas and Rogue 
River Indians. 

Sam related to me some of the 
battles and the mighty deeds of his 
grandfather, Miwaleta, and at one 
time the chief showed my father his 
war dress when I was present. The 
dress was made of two large elk's 
skins dressed soft, but left as thick 
as possible, then laced down the 
sides so as to hang loose about the 
body and leave the legs and arms 
free, the thickest part of the skins 
were back and front and were im- 
penetrable for arrows. The elk skin 
armor was ornamented with Indian 
paints forming figures and designs 
of which I do not remember the 
meaning. I do not remember seeing 
the chief wearing a head dress, but 
have seen the younger Indians wear 
head dresses that seemed more for 
ornament than protection. In war 
times they wore a single white feath- 
tr from the tail of the bald or white 
headed eagle that was snow white. 

Miwaleta's war dress showed evi- 
dence that it had been of practical 
use, being pitted all over, where ar- 
row points had struck it, and the 
chief's arms, face and head showed 
many scars, whihc they claimed were 



made in the wars with the Shastas. 

It has always been a question in 
my mind whether Miwaleta had a 
genuine friendship for the white man 
or was wise enough to know the 
hopelessness of opposition. That he 
always counseled peace and was able 
to restrain his people from going to 
war with the whites, we had ample 
evidence. In the fall of 1852 there 
were runners from the Rogue River 
tribes who came to induce the Cow 
Creek Indians to join them in a war 
against the whites, and a great coun- 
cil was held. At this council I wit- 
nessed a sample of Indian oratory. 
When I arrived at the scene the 
Rogue River Indians had evidently 
submitted their petition and Miwal- 
eta was making a reply. The older 
Indians were seated in a large circle, 
squaws and Indian boys forming the 
outer circle. The chief was also 
seated and talked without gesture in 
a moderate but oratorical tone. The 
Rogue River Indians sitting in per- 
fect silence, and the elder of Mi- 
waleta's people occasionally giving 
grunts of assent or approval. I in 
company with Indian boys of my 
age, listened to the chief for some 
time the day he commenced to talk. 
I was there on the day following, the 
chief was still talking, and I was in- 
formed by the boys that he continued 
to talk until he fell asleep, just what 
the chief could find to say in such a 
long talk was explained to me by the 
Indian boys. It appears that the his- 
tory and legends are committed to 
memory and handed down from 
father to son through their chiefs, 



»><> 



ISiurly JJnys in Oregon 



In this case the chief was reciting to 
the delegates the history of their 
tribal wars and remonstrating with 
some of his own people who were in- 
clined to listen to the Rogue Rivers 
and join them in a war on the whites. 
The counsel of Miwaleta prevailed, 
and when the Rogue River Indians 
went on the war path, Miwaleta's 
Indians encamped near our house 
and remained at peace. 

There were many things happened 
to irritate the Indians and to threat- 
en the peace. There was a class of 
white men in the country who acted 
upon the principal that the Indian 
had no rights that a white man 
should respect. In the fall of 1852 
a young man, a mere boy, wantonly 
stabbed an Indian boy, who lingered 
a few weeks and died. The white 
boy was hastily gotten out of the 
country and the Indians conciliated. 
The settlers' hogs rooted up the Ka- 
mas, a bulb upon which the Indians 
depended largely for food. In set- 
tlement of any kind of trouble there 
would be a "pow wow" in which 
Miwaleta, John Catching and my 
father would be the mediators. I re- 
member a young Indian, a kind of a 
runabout- among the Indians, broke 
into the cabin of a settler named 
Chapin at Round Prairie and stole a 
lot of clothing. Capt. R. A. Cowles 
came to Miwaleta's camp and report- 
ed the theft. The thief was apre- 
kended with some of the clothing, 
kis arms tied behind a tree, and was 
given a thorough whipping by the 
Indians. 

At another time an Indian whose 



home was near Galesville, stole a 
horse and log chain from a traveler, 
came through the mountains, hid the 
horse and chain in the timber and 
chowed up in Quentiousau's camp, 
the white man coming to our house 
in search of his horse. My father 
reported the matterto Chief Miwal- 
eta, who immediately sent his young 
men out, who soon struck the trail 
and found the horse and chain, the 
Indian making his escape to his own 
band. 

At this time no treaty had been 
made with these Indians. General 
Palmer, superintendent of Indian af- 
fairs for the Territory of Oregon, at 
the solicitation of the settlers, had 
paid them a visit and promised to 
return, but before he ddi so an epi- 
demic, a kind of slow fever, broke 
out in Miwaleta's camp and the old 
chief was among the first to suc- 
cumb. I well remeuber nry chum 
Sam and several other Indians wh 
came to our house and said the In 
dians would soon all be gone, tha 
Chief Miwaleta was dead. They ha 
lost all hope, in fact they were dyin 
so fast that they were unable to bury 
their dead, but plaed them upon 
drift wood and burned them. 

After the death o fthe chief, the 
Indians who were not affected with 
the fever scattered into the moun- 
tains, leaving some of the sick who 
were not able to follow to shift for 
themselves. More than half of Mi- 
waleta's band died, and of his im- 
mediate family I can now recall but 
three young Indians that escaped the 
plague, Jackson and Jim, sons of the 



JBaWy Days in Oregon 



37 



chief, and John, a grandson of the in their preliminary arrangements 

chief. Sam, my chum, contracted the for a treaty at the close of the war. 

sickness and attempted to follow, but After the treaty of 1856 the rem- 

was unable to do so and was left to nant of the Cow Creek Indians were 

die alone, when his condition was located on the Siletz reservation. 



reported to me and I prevailed upon 
my mother to allow me to bring him 
to our house, and although my par- 
ents were afraid of infection, they 
allowed me to do so. We gave him 
the best care we could, but after lin- 
gering about two months, he died. 
He was uncomplaining and grateful 
but seemed to have no hope of re- 
covery. It is said to be characteris- 
tic of the Indian that if he makes up 
his min dthat he is going to die that 
he is pretty sure to do it. 

In the fall of 1853 General Joel 
P !mer made a treaty with the rem- 
nants of Miwaleta's band of Indians, 
established a reservation and allowed 
the Indians to elect their own chief. 
They chose Quentiousau head chief 
and his son, Tom, as second chief, 
thus passing over Jackson, the son 
of Miwaleta, and hereditory chief, 
much to the dissatisfaction of the 
remnant of their band. 

When the Rogue River Indians 
went upon the war path against the 
whites in the fall of 1855, the wise 
counsel of Miwaleta was forgotten 
and the young chief, Tom, carried 
his people into the war, joining their 
hereditary enemies, the Rogue Riv- 
ers, against the whites. From this 
war of 1855 and 1856 there was not 
a full grown Indian man survived 
the war. One, a boy, John, a grand- 
con of Chief Miwaleta, is said to have 
ac* * ps messenger between whites 



Article XIII 

It was near the firts of November 
1851 that we settled upon the land 
now known as Glenbrook Farms. 
Our tents were pitched under the 
oak tree now standing just north of 
the Glenbrook farm house. 

At that time Cow Creek valley 
looked like a great wheat field. The 
Indians, according to their custom, 
had burned the grass during the sum- 
mer, and early rains had caused a 
luxuriant crop of grass on which our 
imigrant cattle were fat by Christ- 
ma stime. 

We had finally, after six months 
of travel, reached the prmised land, 
and although we had settled in one 
of the most beautiful' little valleys 
in the world, our nearest neighbor 
was eight miles away, and only four 
homes within twenty-five miles. 

This seemed out of the world to 
my two older sisters and I remember 
there were tears and wailings that 
we had left Illinois and endured all 
the hardships of the plains to settle 
down in a place where they would 
never see anyone and never have 
any neighbors. 

However, the homesickness was 
soon forgotten and all were busy in 
arranging a camp for the winter. 

One large tent and one small one 
were set up and two of the wagon 
boxes were arranged on the ground 
which with the covers made a sleep- 



1 



38 



Early Days in Oregon 



ing place, and canvas was spread to 
shelter the cook stove. I would say 
here that that stove was brought 
from Illinois with us. There was a 
compartment arranged in the back 
part of one of our wagons for the 
stove and it was lifted out and set 
up at every camp. This stove muts 
have been a wonder — our family at 
that time, with two extra men, were 
fifteen in number and all with out- 
door apetites. 

Immediately after our camp was 
arranged the work of preparing a 
home was begun. A house must be 
built, fields must be fenced, and all 
material must be hewn or split from 
the primitive forest. 

Fortuneately in our case the land 
was ready for the plow. There was 
no grubbing to do. In all the low 
valleys of the Umpqua there was 
very little undergrowth, the annual 
fires set by the Indians preventing 
young growth of timber, and fortune- 
ately there was plenty of material 
at hand for house and fencing. 

On the bench land north of the 
Glenbrook Farms, was a grove of 
pines from which logs were hewn for 
a house. We boys, with the ox 
teams hauled the hewed logs to the 
site for the house. 

I think I might he*e, for the 
benefit of sme of the younger read- 
ers, explain in what manner and 
what kind of houses the pioneers 

built. 

The first thing the imigrant did 
on arriving in Oregon was to select 
a claim, The next was to build a 
house. The only material for the 



house was logs, for at time of which 
I write there was not a saw mill in 
Southern Oregon. Many^of the hous- 
es were built of round logs sufficient 
to shelter the family. Floors were 
made of split boards and called 
"puncheon floor". 

In the course of time as the set- 
tler required more house room, he 
would build a second house the 
same dimensions as the first, sixteen 
or more feet form the first. This 
was always called "the other house." 
The space between the two houses 
was roofed and was used for various 
purposes. This style of house was 
called a Missouri house. It was 
characteristic of this house, as well 
as all pioneer houses, for the latch- 
string to always be out. That is to 
say that the pioneer was noted for 
his hospitality. 

My father was more ambitious 
than the average pioneer. Our house 
was made of "hewed" logs, was a- 
bout 18 x 30 and a story and a half 
high with a shed on one side enclosed 
with shakes full length for a kitchen 
and dining room, with a great stack 
of a stone chimney built on the out- 
side at the east end, with a double 
fireplace, one inside and one outside. 
The outside fireplace was built with 
the intention of adding an addition 
to the house. 

It was well along in the spring of 
1852 that our house was ready for 
occupancy. Fortuneately for us the 
winter had been a mild one. Snow 
had hardly covered the ground, and 
I remember my mother commenting 
on winter with* no ice thicker tf^ 




THE OLD RIDDLE HOME AT GLENBROOK. 
The first "white" habitation to be 
erected in this valley. Built in 
1852. Photo taken about ten years 
ago. 



JBmrly Days in Oregon 



39 



a window pane, so though we had 

lived the winter through in tents we 

were comparatively comfortable. 

The Indians had been friendly, 

bringing us fish and venison which 

they would exchange for any old 

thing. Game was in abundance, es- 
pecially wild fowl, such as geese, 
ducks, swans and sandhill cranes. 
All seemed to make the valley their 
feeding ground during the winter 
and later during the spring blue 
grouse were in abundance. 

We were all too busy that first 
winter to do much hunting. The house 
must be built, rails must be split and 
hauled to fence fields. Plowing must 
be done and crops planted, and we 
boys had that work to do. Ox teams 
we had in plenty, but plows had to 
be provided and "Fortunately my 
father was a blacksmith and plow 
maker, but had neither iron nor 
steel 1 with which to make a plow, but 
had the iron for what was called a 
"Carey" plow, no doubt picked up on 
the plains. A Carey plow consisted 
of a small V shaped share or point 
welded to a short bar land side. All 
other parts of the plow mold board 
and all was wood. The steel point 
would root up the ground, but most 
of the dirt would stick to the mold 
board. This "Carey" plow and a 
wooden toothed harrow comprised 
the farming implements of the early 
pioneers but the rich virgin soils of 
our valleys only needed scratching to 
produce abundant crops. 

Late in the f%ll of 1851 gold was 
discovered in Jackson county and in 
the spring of 18g2 there was a great 
rush to the mines and the valleys of 
the Umpqua and Rogue rivers were 
rapidly settled up. 

In my next I will give an account 
of the first settlers of our little val- 
ley, after some Indian stories. 
Article GIV 

Early in the spring of 1852 home- 
seekers began to arrive in Cow 
Creek valley. The first was John 



Catching and family, who located on 
what is now known as the A. L. 
King place. 

Son after they were followed by 
James Catching, a brother of John, 
and W. L. Wilson, a brother of Mrs. 
John Catching, both bachelors. 
James Catching located and his 
house was built where Otto Logsdon 
now lives and W. L. Wilson where 
the Henslee farms are now located. 

Mrs. Mary F. Riddle is a daugh- 
ter of the late John Catching and 
was the first white child born in 
Southern Oregon, south of Roseburg, 
and P. A. Wilson is a son of W. L. 
Wilson. 

The farm where Samuel Ball now 
lives was first located by Green 
Hearn, a bachelor, who afterward 
resided on Myrtle Creek and was 
never married. 

I. B. Nichols located where B. F. 
Nichols now resides. My sister, Isa- 
bel, and I. B. Nichols were married 
in July, 1852. I. B. Nichols had 
come from Iowa to California in 
1848, had later engaged in trans- 
porting supplies from Oregon to the 
mines in northern California by mule 
train, had been attacked by Indians 
on the Rogue river in the spring of 
1851, and had met with heavy loss 
in mules and goods. He had then 
joined with Gen. Phil Kearney in his 
attack upon the Indians near Table 
Rock and in one of these engage- 
ments Capt. Stuart was killed. Nat- 
urally Nichols did not have a friend- 
ly feeling for the Indians and the In- 
dians were quick to discover this un- 
friendly feeling for them. This 
caused some trouble that will appear 
in this story later. 

It is not my purpose to give a de- 
tailed account of the time and place 
and name of each steeler. Suffice it 
that during the summer of 1852 lo- 
cations were made on about all the 
open lands of Cow Creek valley. 
These locations were mere "squat- 
ter" claims. The country had not 
been surveyed and a donation land 



AO 



JS, airly Days in Oregon 



claim for a man and wife was 320 
arres. When surveys were made 
ealh donation land claimant could 
lay his claim to suit himself, but 
lines must be run north, south, east 
and west, but was not confined to 
legal subdivisions. Now, it dould 
seem that where all the desirable 
land was squatted upon berore sur- 
vey was made that there would be 
controversies over the final locations 
but I do not remember that there 
were any contests and in some cases 
final locations were arranged to let a 
later comer have a better claim. 
Such was the generous spirit of the 
early pioneers — they were ready to 
help a neighbor. 

The great need of the first settlers 
was agricultural implements. Early 
in the year 1852 my father, with two 
ox teams, made a trip to Oregon City 
for iron steel to manufacture plows 
and so great was the demand for 
plows that our ox teams were kept 
busy hauling material and we boys 
were the teamsters. Sometimes we 
were accompanied by other teams, 
but I recall that my brother, Abner, 
12, and myself, 14, made a trip to 
Portland with two ox teams with our 
mother alone. In these trips we al- 
ways camped out, turning the oxen 
loose to graze on the abundant 
grass. This freighting was kept up 
through the summers 1852-3-4. We 
became known along the road as the 
boy teamsters. 

I have often been asked about the 
privations suffered by the early set- 
tlers. I do not remember that we 
ever went hungry, but our manner 
of living could not be improved upon 
by Herbert Hoover, and old H. C. L. 
would never have made his appear- 
ance if the manner of living common 
among pioneers had continued. 

Our first year's crop consisted of 
wheat, some corn of the flint or hom- 
iny variety, and an abundance of po- 
tatoes. Our one principal dish was 
boiled wheat and milk. Good! Of 
course, it was good. We had veni- 
son, fish and wild fowl in abundance, 



and with side bacon brought from 
the Willamette for seasoning. 

For fruit, berries were in abund- 
ance. Strawberries were so plenti- 
ful that in their season white horses 
or cattle were changed to a straw- 
berry color by rolling on the ripe 
fruit. Wild raspberries and huckle- 
berries were plentiful in their sea- 
son, and elderberry pie used to 
taste pretty good. 

But it was in clothing that we con- 
served our resources and old H.C.L. 
never showed his head. Buckskin 
suits — the deer skins dressed and 
smoked to the fashionable tint — 
were the mode. Each year we boys 
had a new suit — coat and pants with 
fringe two inches long or more along 
the outside seams. These suits were 
very durable and at the present time 
Would attract a great deal of atten- 
tion. There was one trouble about 
the buckskin pants. We often got 
them wet hunting in the rain and if 
we sat by the fire to dry them they 
would draw up and harden in shape 
to our knees. However, buckskin 
pants were worn by all the men and 
boys while buckskin moccasins were 
worn by both sexes. 

While writing this my mind goes 
back to those good old days when I 
would be off to the mountains with 
my rifle and followed by a half dozen 
Indian boys. I was the chief. I had 
the only gun. Sometimes I would 
allow an Indian boy to shoot a 
grouse which would fill him With 
pride and joy. The boys were a 
great help. Their keen eyes would 
spy out the grouse. Their blue color 
harmonized so well with the green 
foliage of the fir trees it made them 
difficult to find and when shot they 
would flutter -down the steep moun- 
tain sides, but my boys would re- 
trieve the game in short notice and 
would carry all the game which 
would be from ten to twenty birds 
for a full day's hunt. When we re- 
turned home my mother would give 
the boys some bread and sometimes 



IB airly Days in Oregon 



41 



some of the game. Those were hap- 
py days for both white and red boys. 

ARTICLE XV 

The winter of 1852-3 was a very 
severe one for Oregon. The snow 
was two feet deep in the valley and 
remained for a month or more. 
Pack trains were held up and miners 
and settlers in Jackson county were 
soon without supplies, especially 
bread stuff. Beef, without salt, was 
the principal food — salt was said to 
have been exchanged for its weight 
in gold duts, while flour was any 
price that might be demanded. I 
remember that "Mike" Hanley 
(father of "Bill" Hanley the Harney 
county cattle fking) came to our 
house soon after the snow blockade 
was over saying he had lived on poor 
beef without salt so long that he 
could not look a cow in the face. 

I might say here that during the 
summer of 1852 a road had been 
opened over the mountains to where 
Glendale is now situated and was 
used by pack trains in preference to 
the canyon road for several years 
and during this snow blockade star- 
ved out miners drifted making their 
way to the Willamette valley and 
many of them made our house a 
stopping place. Most of these men 
were without money but they were 
all fed and made as comfortable as 
possible. Some of these men were so 
exhausted that it was necessary for 
them to stay with us for several 
days. Some of them had homes in 
the Willamette valley and after- 
wards amply paid for their enter- 
tainment. 

Fortunately we had ample sup- 
plies of food stuffs. During the fall 
before we had traded some of our 
oxen and an extra wagon for a ton 



of flour and a lot of bacon and this 
was in addition to supplies already 
provided for the winter. 

It was the custom of farmers in 
the Willamette to haul their produce 
as near to the mines as possible and 
there dispose of their flour and ba- 
con to the packers. This trade of 
my father's was very fortunate for 
our neighborhood. Many of our 
neighbors had not provided sufficient 
supplies to carry them through so 
long a freight blockade. Flour was 
rated at $1 per pound but so far 
as I remember no one took advan- 
tage of the opportunity to profiteer 
to that extent. - My father loaned 
our surplus to neighbors. 

By the summer of 1853 the coun- 
try began to present the appearance 
of permanent homes. Fields were 
fenced, all with split rails laid up 
in worm fashion; two flouring mills 
had been established, one at Rose- 
burg and one at Winchester, which 
were patronized by settlers from for- 
ty miles away; also two saw mills, 
one at Myrtle Creek owned by 
Moses Dyer, and one at Canyonville 
owned by David # Ransom. These 
mills weer of the up and down saw 
variety but were able to cut enough 
lumber for flooring for cabins. They 
filled some of the great needs of the 
settlers. 

Has it occurred to some of my 
readers what was done by pioneer* 
for schools at the time of which I 
am writing? There was not a school 
houes in Douglas county. The first 
school taught in this valley was by 
Mrs. J. Q. C. Vandenbosch. Her 
father, John Smith, had located n 
donation claim first where William 
Mayes lives but later changed to 
land that embraces the town of Rid- 



42 



JBariy Days in Oregon 



: : — 

water power with the Studebaker 
company. One of the Vandenbosch 
daughters married a Studebaker. 

yAbout 1890 Mr. and Mrs. Van- 
denbosch visited us at Glenbrook 
farm. One object was to investigate 
the falls of Cow Creek with a view 
of manufacturing paper pulp, but it 
was found that pulp wood could not 
be obtained near enough to the 
power. 

Several years after that one of the 
Vandenbosch daughters was here 
and visited the site of their first 
home on the banks of Cow Creek. 

I have given this particular ac- 
count of the Vandenbosch family for 
the reason they were the first owners 
of the townsite of Riddle, and the 
name will appear on all abstracts of 
title to Riddle town property as long 
as time lasts. 

Article XVI 

I have now arrived in my story 
where a relation of incidents .in 
which the Indians that we found in 
possession of the country will bear 
a large part. There are many things 
of which the history of the Indian 
wars make no mention at all and 
others of importance that have the 
slightest mention. There has also 
been a disposition on the part o{ 
historians, especially "Vitor's" His- 
tory of the Early Indian Wars of 
Oregon, eo eragerate and also to 
excuse the wrongs perpetrated upon 
the Indians by the whites. 

The Indians that we found in the 
Cow Creek valley had not come in 
contact with the whites, living as 
the:/, did remote from the line of 
travel between California and Ore- 
gon. Some of them had not seen a 
white man and a white child was an 
object of great interest. They po- 
sessed few guns and no horses and 



die and the Abner Riddle farm. 
Smith returned to his home at South 
Bend, Indiana, and sent his son-in- 
law, ^Vandenbosch, out to take the 
claim: Their house, weatherboarded 
with shakes, was built on the bank 
of the river at the lower end of the 
Aunt Mary Riddle orchard. In this 
house Mrs. Vandenbosch taught all 
the children that would come to her. 
Among the pupils attending this 
school, now living, are Mrs. Judge 
Crockett of Grants Pass and my sis- 
ter, Mrs. R. V. Bealle of Central 
Point. 

I trust my readers will pardon me 
for gviing a brief account of the 
Vandonbosch family. Mr. "Van" was 
a highly educated Hollander, very 
fastidious in his habits, and was not 
suited to the rough life of a pioneer. 
Mrs. Van was of a wealthy Indiana 
family. Greenbury Smith, at one 
time the wealthiest man of Benton 
county, Oregon, was her uncle. She 
was an accomplished, brave, helpful 
pioneer woman and continued to 
teach for several years at her home. 
Vandenbosch could not farm. He ap- 
parently could not do manual labor. 
He was county clerk for a time and 
afterwards conducted a store busi- 
ness at Canyonville. Abner and J. 
B. Riddle purchased their donation 
claim and about 1866 they moved 
to California where Mr. Van's know- 
ledge of metalurgy helped him to 
formulate a process for the reduc- 
tion of refractory ores from which 
he cleared over one hundred thous- 
and dollars. 

They then returned to South Bend, 
Indiana, where they engaged in fur- 
niture manufacturing and later a 
son, Walter, engaged in the manu- 
facture of paper pulp using the same 



J^ni'ly Days in Oregon 



43 



a vv of tlio implements or cloth- 
used by civilized peoples, and 

[■•'•<; they possessed had been traded 
to them by the Klikitat Indians who 
had made ocassional visits .to the 
Cmpqua valleys. The Klickitats 
wore a roving tribe whose home was 
jjsoinewliere north of the Columbia 
river. They were traders and some- 
times called the "Jews of the Indian 
tribes". The Klickitats had also 
taught the natives a few words of 
Chinook jargon which was soon im- 
proved upon by the aid of a Chinook 
dictionary. 

The Indians as we found them 
wore dressed in the skins of wild 
animals, principally in dressed deer 
skins, in the tanning of which they 
were experts. Their process in treat- 
ing skins so that they would remain 
soft and pliable may be interetsing. 
The brains of the deer was the only 
thing used. The brains, when taken 
i'rcm the deer were mixed with oak 
tree moss which was formed into 
balls and hung overhead in their 
huts to be smoked and dried to be 
used at any thne. The grain and 
liar of the deer skin was removed 
with a sharp edge of a split bone 
end afterward soaked in a solution 
of brains and warm water for twen- 
ty-four hours or more. The skins 
were then wrung out and rubbed un- 
til thoroughly dry, then smoked un- 
til the yellow color desired was ob- 
tained. The smoke also prevented 
the skins from becoming hard when 
wet. Furs and deer skins were 
treated with the hair on in much 
the same manner. 

A relation of what the Indians of 
this country subsisted upon — how 
they obtained their food and how 
they prepared it may be interesting. 
Nature seems to have furnished the 
Indians with a great variety of foods 



s"uch as game fish, Kamas, acorns, 
seeds of various kinds. The deer 
was the principal game, which, be- 
fore they had guns, were taken with 
snares. To capture a deer in this 
manner they must have ropes and 
good ones. These were made from 
a fibre taken from a plant — a kind 
of flag— growing in the mountains. 
From each edge of the long flat 
leaves of the flag a fine thread of 
fibre was obtained by the squaws, 
stripping it with their thumb nails. 
This was a slow process and would 
require the labor of one squaw a 
year to make a rope five-eighths of 
an inch thick and fifteen feet long, 
but the rope was a good one and 
highly prized by its owner. In order 
to snare a deer miles of brush fences 
were made across the heads of can- 
yons. The ropes were set at open- 
ings where experience had taught 
the Indians that the deer would 
likely go. Then a great drive was 
organized with Indians strung along 
the sides of the canyon. Those mak- 
ing the drive, with dogs, making a 
great racket crying "ahootch, a- 
hootch", and those stationed on the 
ridges were making the same sound, 
while their wolf dogs kept up their 
howling. All the noise was made to 
direct the deer to where the ropes 
were located. I never participated 
in one of these drives, but I have 
seen their fences and the manner of 
making the drives was explained to 
me by the Indian boys. They also 
set their snare ropes around salt 
licks and watering places.. I rem- 
ember at one time a great antlered 
buck came across the field with a 
rope around his neck with a piece 
of root on the end. The deer in 
plunging through the brush at the 
river's edge entangled the rope and 
being in swimming water was unable 



44 



Marly Days in Oregon 



to pull loose. An Indian soon came 
running on the track and was great- 
ly pleased at the capture of the 
buck and recovery of his valuable 
snare rope. 

Grouse and water fowl were also 
snared by twine made from the same 
fibre as the ropes. 

The Indians had another method 
of hunting the deer — with bows and 
arrows — and in order to approach 
the deer to make the arrows effect- 
five they dressed themselves to re- 
semble the deer by rovering them- 
selves with a deer skin with the 
head and neck mounted to look nat- 
ural, keeping the deer to the wind- 
ward and going through the motions 
of a deer feeding. At fifty yards 
the Indian arrow was as deadly as 
a bullet. 

On our arrival most of the In- 
dians were armed with bows and 
arrows. The bows were made of 
yew-wood, the backs covered by the 
sinews of the deer held by some kind 
of glue. The bows were about thirty 
inches long and very elastic. They 
could be bent until the ends mould 
almost meet. The quifver holding 
the bow and arrows, was made of 
the whole skin of the otter or fox 
and swung across the back so that 
the feather end of the arrow could 
be reached over the shoulder. They 
were so expert in reaching the ar- 
rows and adjusting to the bow that 
they could keep an arrow in the air 
all the time. 

I have written the foregoing think- 
ing that the Indian manner of hdnt- 
ing yame miyht at least interest my 
young readers. Their primitive 
methods soon dissappeared when the 
rifle took the place of snare and the 
bow and arrow. 

ARTICLE XVII 

Th Indians manner of fishing was 



more simple than snaring deer. The 
silver salmon came in such multi- 
tudes in the fall, runs that they were 
easily taken at the falls of ( 
creek. Dams of sticks were made 
across the small channels through 
the rocks and traps with hazel rods 
woven together with withes forming 
a basket about ten feet long and 
about three feet in diameter at the 
upper or open end and coming to a 
point at the closed or lower end. 
This trap was fastened in the rapid 
water in the narrow channel with 
twisted hazel withes fastened to the 
poles of the dam. The salmon in 
great numbers would pass up by the 
side of the trap and, failing to get 
above the dam, would be carried 
back into the open end of the trap 
and the weight of the water would 
hold them. The Indians would work 
two such traps and when the river 
began to raise in the fall they 'would 
take several hundred of a night. 
When the fall rains came sufficient 
to raise the river two or three feet 
the great run of salmon would come 
day and night. Crowding up ui 
the falls hundreds of them being in 
sight at one time. 

The successful fishing season of 
the Indians depended upon the 
raise of the water. When the river 
raised above a certain stage the 
salmon passed over the falls to their 
spawning grounds. Very few of 
them ever return to the salt water 
alive. The only salmon returning 
are those carried by the currents of 
winter freshets after they become 
too weak to resist. The salmon takes 
no food after leaving salt water. 

The foregoing may appear to be 
something of a fish story. Commer- 
cial fishing is carried on at the pres- 
ent day to such an extent that few 
if any salmon reach the upper wat- 



JBarly Days in Oregon 



45 



ers of our river. 

Lamprey Eels were highly prized 
by the Indians. They were a scale- 
less, snake-like fish which would 
hold to the rocks with their sucker 
mouth and the Indians would dive 
in the icy water, seize the eel with 
both hands and, coming to the top 
of the water, kill the squirming thing 
by thrusting it shead in their' mouth 
and crushing it with their teeth. 

Hunting and fishing was the only 
work that I ever knew an Indian 
man to do, especially in providing 
food. The squaws were the workers. 
The greatest part of their winter 
food was the "kamass" — a small 
onion shaped bulb about one inch 
in diameter and were plentiful in 
the low lands of the valley. In the 
early morning thfe squaws would be 
out in the kamass field provided 
with a basket — a cone shaped affair 
wide open at the top, swung on the 
back and carried with a strap across 
the forehead — a manner in which 
the Indians carried all their burdens 
and which left both arms free. Each 
squaw would be armed with a kam- 
ass stick made of Indian arrow wood 
fashioned to a point at one end by 
burning and rubbing the charred 
wood off leaving the point as hard 
as steel. At the top end was fitted 
a curved handle, generally a piece 
of deer horn. Locating the bulb by 
the seed top above ground they 
would insert the stick under the root 
with the weight of the body, prying 
up the kamass, which they would 
leftly throw over the shoulder into 
the basket. In this manner if the 
expert squaw worked all day she 
could bring home about one bushel. 
If she was the mother of a papoose 
she carried it along strapped on a 
board. 

The kamass was cooked by exca- 



vating a pit, filling it with wood 
with rocks on top. After the rocks 
were sufficiently heated they were 
covered with dry grass and then a 
great lot of kamass, covering them 
up with earth for several days when 
they came out they would be of a 
reddish brown color and were sweet 
and really good to eat. 

The "soap tart", a large bulb with 
layers of coarse fibre all through, 
was treated in the same manner as 
the kamass, but was poor food. 

The white oak acorn was used as 
food, but I do not think relished, 
and perhaps only used to appease 
hunger. The acorns were pounded 
in a mortor, the hulls separated, and 
meat pounded into a meal. It was 
then spread out on clean sand and 
water poured over to take out the 
bitter taste. It was then boiled in 
a mush or porridge. Some of my 
readers may wonder how the Indians 
would boil food when they had 
neither pot nor kettle made of metal, 
yet they did boil much of their food. 

They had vessels or baskets made 
of hazel twigs closely woven and 
lined with a blue clay, making them 
water tight. The boiling was by 
dropping hot rocks in the water. The 
squaws were experts at picking the 
heated rock from the fires, blowing 
the ashes from it into the mush pot. 
The cooled rock were renewed with 
hot ones until the mess was cooked. 

During the summer months the 
squaws would gather various kinds 
of seeds of which the tar weed seed 
was the most prized. The tar weed 
was a plant about thirty inches high 
and was very abundant on the 
bench lands of the valley, and was a 
great nuisance at maturity. It would 
be covered with globules of clear 
tarry substance that would coat the 
head and legs of stock as if tliey 



4(5 



JB a rly Days in Oregon 



had been coated with tar. When 
the seeds were ripe the country was 
burned off. This left the plant stand- 
ing with the tar burned off and the 
seeds left in the pods. Immediately 
after the fire there would be an 
army of squaws armed with an im- 
plement made of twigs shaped like 
a tennis racket with their basket 
swung in front they would beat the 
seeds from the pods into the basket. 
This seed gathering would only last 
a few days and every squaw in the 
tribe seemed to be doing her level 
best to make all 1 the noise she could, 
beating her racket against the top 
of her basket. All seeds were 
ground into meal with a mortar and 
pestle. The mortar was formed by 
forming a round hollow in the face 
of flat boulders, over which was 
placed a basket with a hole in the 
bottom to fit the depression in the 
rock, forming a kind of hopper to 
hold the seeds, then with a stone 
fashioned about two inches in diam- 
eter at lower end and tapering to 
the other end to a size easily grasp- 
ed with the hand the operator would 
sit upon the ground with the mortar 
between her knees and would pound 
the seeds, using the pestle which 
was usually about ten inches long, 
and weighing five or six pounds, 
with one hand and stirring the seeds 
with the other, often changing hands 
using right or left hand for pound- 
ing or stirring the seeds with equal 
skill. 

For the Indian to fashion one of 
those pestles must have required 
time and patience. They were 
formed as round, straight and true 
as if they had been turned in a 
lathe. 

Article XVIII 
In my last two papers I have given 



an account of the Indians' manner 
of hunting, fishing and of their foods 
and how prepared. We found them 
living in their primitive manner in 
the midst of plenty. They were di- 
vided up into groups or families and 
each had their head men or chiefs, 
but all seemed to acknowledge Miwa- 
letau as the head chief. His band 
occupied the north bank of Cow 
creek with winter quarters at the 
falls of Cow creek and that part of 
the valley was called "Mi-wa-letia", 
the chiefs always taking the name 
of the locality. 

The second most numerous band 
made their homes on Council creek 
near where Mr. Phillips now lives, 
and their head man was Quentiousau 
who also claimed control of the In- 
dians at Canyonville and South Ump- 
qua. They were called "Tara-gun- 
sau". (All these Indian names were 
trongly accented on the last syllable) 

A small band that we called Myr- 
tle creek Indians were closely related 
to the Quentiousaus. These bands 
would stand together against out- 
side enemies, yet they had feuds 
among themselves. Minor offenses 
were often settled by payment of 
damages. 

Revenge appears to be character- 
istic of all Indians. If an Indian was 
killed by another it was incumbent 
upon the near relative of the dead 
to avenge his death. 

Early in the spring of 1852 there 
were three Myrtle Creek bucks made 
themselves notorious. They were 
named Curley, Big Ike and Little 



Early Day's ip Oregon 



47 



Jim. Curly wore long wavy hair 
and was a large powerful buck and 
the leader. They would stalk into 
a settler's cabin and demand food. 

Curly wantonly killed a squaw, 
cut off her head placed it on a 
stake near the body in the grove on 
the Gazley place near the Umpqua 
river. The squaw was a- sister of a 
young Indian we called Charley — a 
member of the Miwaletau band. 

Charley was undersized and weak 
physically, but it was up to him to 
kill the big Curley. We often loaned 
Charley a gun to hunt deer, for 
which he would bring a share of the 
venison, but for arms he* carried a 
bow and arrows, while Curley car- 
ried a good gun and had often 
threatened Charley, making fun of 
his bow and arrows. Charley relat- 
ed his troubles to us and had arous- 
ed my mother's sympathy, but we 
would not loan him a gun with which 
to kill Curley. 

This Indian Curley, with his two 
companions, Big Ike and Little Jim, 
had come to our house at one time 
when the men were away, and, as 
was their custom, stalked into the 
house and demanded food. I was 
at home with a broken arm caused 
by jumping from a wagon load of 
poles to urge my ox team up a steep 
bank. In jumping my foot has slip- 
ped and in falling I had struck my 
left arm across a rock breaking the 
bones above the wrist. 

Seeing my arm in splints the Cur- 
ly brave seized hold of me pretend- 
ing he would break my arm again, 



and hurting me cruelly. I rushed 
into the kitchen and grabbed a 
butcher knife with which to do bat- 
tle with the big brute, but my mo- 
ther stopped me. I was then twelve 
years old, but I suppose I thought 
that armed with a dull butcher knife 
I could fight a whole tribe. So it 
can be seen that the white settlers 
did not discourage Charley when he 
declared that some time he would 
kill Curley. 

Late that summer Charley, with 
a small family, including two boys, 
Sam and John, who were grandsons 
of the old Chief Miwaletau, were 
camped on the south bank of Cow 
creek near the south approach of 
the steel bridge at the town of Rid- 
dle. The camp was enclosed with 
willows, leaving an opening for en- 
trance. Ourley, coming along alone 
and in a spirit of bravado, walked 
into the hut leaving his gun at the 
entrance, seated himself and ordered 
food to be brought him. The two 
boys were out hunting and Charley 
was alone except for squaws and 
children of the family, Curley no 
doubt holding his weakness in con- 
tempt. Charley, burning with his 
wrongs and the insults that had been 
heaped upon him for .months, suc- 
ceeded in reaching Curley's gun first 
and shot him dead. Charley, think- 
ing that Big Ike and Jim, Curley's 
friends, would be near, ran for his 
tribe for protection. He reached our 
house, five miles away, almost ex- 
hausted and rushed into the house 
saying: "Nika mimaluse Curley 



48 



Early Days in Oregon 



Kloshe mika pot-latch shirt" (I have 

killed Curley. Give me a shirt). My 

mother, from kindness or thinking 

he had earned a calico (trade) shirt, 

promptly gave him one. I mention 

this circumstance, for we afterward 
joked our mother that she had hired 

Charley to kill Curley. 

Within a few hours after the kill- 
ing runners had reached all the 
friends on both sides of the quarrel. 
Quentiousau's band espoused the 
cause of the Myrtle Creeks and we 

were soon in the midst of a genuine 
Indian war with Cow creek dividing 
the two hostile bands. 

The Miwaleta's were soon organ- 
ized under the young Chief Jackson. 
Their first effort was to find the 
boys, Sam and John, who would re- 
turn from their hunt on Ash creek 
unsuspecting and would fall into the 
hands of the enemy. Sam was my 
chum among the Indian boys and we 
were very anxious on their account. 
Night had come on. We could hear 
the war cries of the Indians with 
occasional gun shots. It was about 
eleven o'clock at night that Jackson, 
with his party, returned with the 
boys safe, Sam giving his eagle yell 
to assure me of his safety. 

In my next I will conclude the 
story of the killing of Curley. 
Article XIX 

At the conclusion of my last ar- 
ticle we were in the midst of a gen- 
uine Indian war. That is it was 
Indian against Indian with the sym- 
pathy of the whites strongly in fa- 
vor of the slayer of Curley. 

Yells of defiance could be heard 
frm both sides all night long. Early 



next morning the Mawauletas were 
assembled on the river bank in front 
of our house and Quinteausaus on 
the high ground on the opposite 
side of the river. About two hun- 
dred yards distant on our side of 
the river were two round log build- 
ings near the river bank. In one 
of these I had my gun, ready to en- 
gage in the war. Our Indians were 
in their war paint, with one white 
eagle feather as a head ornament. 

The stage setting appeared to be 
for a pitched battle, with the river 
for a "no man's land". The bands 
appeared about equally divided, for- 
ty on a side. A brave on one side 
would advance in front of his party 
go through a war dance challenging 
the other side to combat individ- 
ually or collectively and wind up 
with a war whoop. The challenge 
would be accepted by a young brave 
on the opposite side so far as speech 
and war dance was concerned. 

At one stage of the proceedings 
"Tom", a young chief of the Curley 
faction, left his band on the hill, 
rushed down to the river bank 
which brought him within gun shot 
frpm our side, and yelled his chal- 
lenge, which was accepted by my 
chum Sam, who rushed to the bank 
dropped on his knee and proceeded 
to rest his gun on a stick that all 
Indian boys carried to steady their 
guns. Sam shouted in English: 

"G d you Tom, I kill you 

now." Tom, seeing he was about 
to be shot dodged behind some 
brush and ran for it. This was ac- 
cepted as a great victory for our 
side and the whole hand danced and 
yelled. (I trust my readers will not 
think I have copied some of the 
proceedings of the late Democratic 
cnvention.) 

At about this stage of the war 



JSar'ly Days in Oregon 



49 



Chief Miwauleta took the platform 
(bank) and delivered an oration, 
no doubt advising peace, and was 
answered by the old chief from the 
other side, and a kind of armed 
neutrality seemed to be patched up 
and in a few days afterward, Charlie 
the slayer of Curley, died suddenly 
from hemorage of the lungs, brought 
on, no doubt, by his five mile run 
after shooting Curley. 
Article XX 
The Story of "Tipsu Bill" 

During the summer of 1851 it was 
rumored that there was a white 
child among the Cow Creek Indians. 

Captain Remick A. Cowles with 
a party of men visited Quentiousau's 
camp on Council creek to investigate 
and on making the object of their 
visit known Tipsu, armed with a rifle 
and followed by his squaw wife and 
a girl about eight years old present- 
ed themselves and by sign language 
stated that the squaw was his wife 
and that the little girl was their 
child and, on examination, the white 
party were satisfied that the little 
girl, although lighter than the aver- 
age Indian, was unmistakably In- 
dian. 

Tipsu Bill was not a native of the 
Cow Creekband, but was adopted by 
the tribe. His native home was 
somewhere near Butte Falls in 
Jackson county and he wts likely 
of the Molalla tribe, and on account 
of tribal wars had migrated to the 
Umpqua country. With him had 
come besides his squaw and papooses 
a younger brother about fifteen 
years old that we named "Jack, an 
old man that we n med "Skunk" 
and a family, about ten in all. I 
might explain here, nearly all the 
Indians were given a name, and they 
were always pleased to have a 
white man's name. It dtd not mat- 



ter how ludricous the name might 
be. One prominent Indian was nam- 
ed "Hairpin." One of my sisters 
had dropped a hairpin which the 
Indian had picked up and inserted 
through the hole in his nose and 
wore as an ornament, so he bore 
the name of "Hairpin" after that. 

"Tipsu Bill" derived his name 
from having a slight whisker on his 
chin. The name "Tipsu" should not 
be confused with that of "Tipsu 
Tyee," mentioned in the history of 
the Rogue River Indian wars. 

Tipsu was a very striking appear- 
ing Indian — tall,, straight, powerful. 
Captain Cowles relating the inci- 
dent of the white child examination 
said that Tipsu was the personifi- 
cation of courtesy, coolness and cour- 
age, giving the whites the opportu- 
nity to look at the child, but giving 
the impression that "I am here with 
my gun todefen d my family with 
my life." Tipsu made his home 
with the Miwaleta band and during 
the Rogue River war of 1853 was 
encamped near our house. I relate 
this fact to show further on how 
Tipsu lost hit life in connection with 
the massacre of the Grave Creek 
Indians, of which Waiting's history 
gives an account. It appears that 
after the treaty had been signed by 
General Lane and his officers with 
the Rogue River chiefs, Joe and Sam 
there developed a class of white men 
that we may as well call extermin- 
ators that generally wreaked their 
vengeance upon some helpless band 
of Indians that had no connection 
with the late war. Waiting's his- 
tory says: "We have the evidence 
of no less an authority than Judge 
Deady to prove that a fearful out- 
rage was perpetrated at Grave 
Creek after the armistice was agreed 
upon. He writes: 



30 



JBai'ly Days in Oregon 



"At Grave Creek I stopped feed 
my horse and get something to eat. 
There was a house there called the 
Bates House, after the man who 

kept it Bates and some others 

had induced a small party of peace- 
able Indians who belonged in that 
vicinity to enter into an engagment 
to remain at peace with the whites 
dnring the war which was going on 
at some distance from them and by 
way of ratification of this treaty 
invited them to partake of a feast 
in an unoccupied log house just 
across the road from the Bates 
House, and while they were partak- 
ing unarmed of this proffered hos- 
iptality the door was suddenly fas- 
tened upon them and they were de- 
liberately shot down through the 
cracks between the logs by their 
treacherous 1 hosts. Nearby, and 
probably a quarter of a mile this 
side I was shown a large round hole 
into which the bodies of those mur- 
dered Indians had been unceremoni- 
ously tumbled. I did not see them 
for they were covered with fresh 
earth." 

The above account agrees in most 
partculars with the account I had 
from Jack, the brother of Tipsu and 
two Grave creek Indian boys who 
made their escape and made their 
home with our Indians for two years 
afterward. 

It appears that after the Grave 
creek Indians were rounded up in 
the log house as related by Judge 
Deady they were informed that their 
lives would be spared on condition 
that they would bring in the head of 
Tipsu Bill who was encamped on 
Grave creek a few miles below the 
Bates house with his small band, and 
engaged in hunting deer, Tipsu being 
the only able bodied man of the par- 
ty. The Grave creek Indians think- 



ing to save their own lives detailed 
part of their band to bring in Tipsu's 
head. 

They found Tipsu in his camp, 
who being at peace and unsuspic- 
ious of his visitors, they treacherous- 
ly shot and carried his head to their 
white captors, supposing they would 
soon be released, but in this they 
were soon undeceived, for they were 
all shot down as related by Judge 
Deady. 

The two Indian boys came in sight 
while the shooting was going on and 
sensing whot was going on ran for 
it. The exterminators turned their 
guns oh the boys and hit one of 
them in the heel, but they made 
their escape. 

The number of Indians killed in 
the log house was nine and was all 
the able bodied men of the tribe. 
Their chief, Taylor, with two others 
had been hung at Vannoy's ferry 
in December 1852 on a trumped up 
charge of having murdered seven 
prospectors on lower Rogue river. 
No evidence of the men being mur- 
dered was ever found and the rea- 
sonable supposition is that the pros- 
pectors had simply moved on to 
some other locality, It was claimed 
that Chief Taylor had in his poses- 
sion a small amount of gold dust 
and that when he saw that he was 
about to be executed confessed to 
the killing which was not in keep- 
ing with Indian character. 

The family of Tipsu, after the kill- 
ing returned to Cow creek and made 
their homes with Miwaleta's band 
until the beginning of the war of 
1855-56. 

The supposed white child was 
named Nellie and was sent to the 
Grand Rond reservation in Yamhill 
county with a lot of squaws and old 
Indians that Were found hid away 



JB airly Days in % Or*egoi2 



31 



in the mountains on the head of 
Rice creek. Nellie grew up to be a 
famous beauty and many stories 
came back about her connection, with 
prominent men. Jack, the young 
brother, lived with our family for 
over a year doing all kinds of farm 
work. I have been out hunting with 
him in the mountains for a week at 
a time. He seemed to have no ani- 
mosity against the whites for the 
death of his brother, but many times 
said he would have to kill the two 
Grave creek boys when he quit work 
for uh, he wanted my father to give 
him a rifle that he had used hunting 
while with us. (And by the way the 
rifle he wanted is now in the poses- 
sion of my brother, Abner,. It was 
carried by my brother, William, 
through the war of 1855-56, and also 
is the rifle that brother Abner and I 
each killed our first deer with.) 

My father refused to give Jack a 
gun, but gave him a horse instead. 
I have given this particular account 
of Jack because he afterwards be- 
came the most deadly enemy of the 
whites of which more anon. 
Article XXI. 

In my last I gave an account of 
the massacre of the Grave Creek In- 
dians and the treacherous slaying of 
Tipsu Bill. Other events of like na- 
ture followed. 

The writers of history of the In- 
dian wars of Southern Oregon were 
too ready to find excuses for the 
outrages committed upon the In- 
dians. The writer of Walling's his- 
tory was disposed to be fair, but was 
often misled into making false state- 
ments. Here is a sample: 

"Throughout the spring and first 
part of the summer of 1853 little 
was heard of the depredations of the 
savages. Only one incident seemed 
to mar the ordinary relations of 



white man and native. 

"The event referred to was the 
murder of two miners, one an Am- 
erican, the other a Mexican, in their 
cabin on Cow Creek, and the rob- 
bery of their domicile, and as a 
matter of course the deed was laid 
to Indians and probably justly, for 
the Indians along that creek had a 
very bad reputation." 

Now I will undertake to say that 
the killing of the two men as stated 
above is absolutely false, especially 
as to being on Cow creek. Such 
•an event would have been indelibly 
impressed upon my mind. Another 
curious circumstance is that the 
names of the miners were not given. 

It seems strange that stories so 
vague would be written into history. 
The history further' states, referring 
to the Cow Creek Indians: 

"They were of the Umpqua fam- 
ily but had independent chiefs and 
were far more fierce and formidable 
than the humble natives of the Ump- 
qua valley proper. They had com- 
mitted several small act sof depre- 
dation on the settlers in that vicin- 
ity, such as attempting to burn 
grain fields, out buildings, etc., but 
had not, it appears, entered upon 
any more dangerous work until the 
killing referred to. The unfortunate 
Grave Creek band allowed them- 
selves to be mixed up in the affair 
and suffered ill consequences." 

Further on the history states: 
"The total number of Grave Creek 
Indians who were killed in conse- 
quence of their supposed complicity 
in the acts and in the so-called mur- 
der on Galice Creek previously spok- 
en of was eleven. *** The Grave 
Creek tribe was rapidly becoming 
extinct." 

And as a matter of fact they were 
extinct so far as able bodied males 



o2 



Marly I^ays in Oregon 



were concerned except the two boys 
as I related before., that took ref- 
uge with our Indians. 

It was perhaps about a month af- 
ter the massacre of the Grave Creek 
band that a party of men professing 
to be prospectors, fourteen in num- 
ber, visited our valley, making their 
camp across the small creek and a- 
bout one hundred yards from where 
the Glenbrook farm house now 
stands. These men were from Jos- 
ephine county and no doubt were 
some of the same persons who par- 
ticipated in the slaughter of the 
Grave Creeks and other Indians. The 
day following there arrived a part 
of their company went up Cow 
creek on the south bank of the 
stream about four miles from our 
house. They found a small camp of 
Indians — one very old rheumatic In- 
dian, a brother of the old Chief Mi- 
waleta, one squaw and one little girl 
about three years old. The old In- 
dian and the squaw were shot down. 
A sick Indian that was some distance 
from the camp hid and witnessed 
the murders. There was also a boy 
we called John out hunting, return- 
ing a short time after the white men 
had departed and finding his family 
murdered and their camp burned, 
made his way to the Indians main 
camp on Wilson creek near where 
Mr. Henslee now lives. The little 
girl papoose was brought down alive 
of which my mother immediately 
took charge. The men had found 
the childs beaded buckskin suit that 
they insisted on keeping, but were 
prevailed upon to give up. 

These men acknowledged the kill- 
ing, throwing off all disguise and 
said they were Indian exterminators 
from Rogue uiver, and immediately 
assumed to take charge of affairs of 
our valley. They placed a guard at 



the mouth of the canyon, where they 
met one of our neighbors, Green 
Hearn, who with Chief Jackson, at- 
tempted to go to the scene of the 
murder, driving them back, eveling 
their guns on Hearn as well as the 
Indian. This killing caused a great 
deal of indignation and apprehension 
among the whites. What would the 
Indians do? Would they retaliate 
by wreaking vengeance on the set- 
tlers during the afternoon? All were 
notified of the killing and during 
the night Indian runners had noti- 
fied all the scattering bands, Myrtle 
Myrtle Creeks, Canyonville and the 
South Umpquas were all assembled. 
Early next morning the whole 
band of Indians, about forty or fifty, 
in number, appeared on the opposite 
side of the river from our house, 
with our neighbor, John Catching, 
among them. The white murdtrers 
seized their guns and rushed to the 
bank of the river. My father got 
ahead of the white men to prevent 
them firing while John Catching was 
in front of the Indians, who were 
wading the river. The white men 
retired to their camp at the foot of 
a large pine tree about sixty yards 
from the river bank. The Indians 
came straight on and soon complete- 
ly surrounded the white men, form- 
ing a circle within twenty feet of 
the tree, with John Catching and 
my father inside the circle. The 
white men did not seem to have any 
desire for a pitched battle with so 
many Indians, who seemed to want 
to make showing of force, and to 
demand reparation for the wanton 
killing of their people. During the 
"pow-wow" there were tense mom- 
ents. Young Chief Tom was prin- 
cipal spokesman for the Indians and 
used every invective at his command 
in English, Jargon, or his native 



JBarly Days in Oregon 



33 



>nge in denouncing the cowardly 
acts of the white men. He told 
them they were cowards — that they 
could kill an old man and a squaw, 
j but would not fight a warrior. One 
I of thewhite men retorted: You can 
talk brave — you are four to our 
one." At this Tom called out an 
equal number of Indians, saying: 
"Come on, we will fight you man for 
man." 

The Indians held those men from 
early morning until noon. During 
the six hours neither side relaxed 
their hostile attitude for a moment. 

The white men, although not cow- 
ards, Knew that their lives would 
pay i'or f.ny hostile move, and the 
Indians also knew that battle with 
white men would be disastrous to 
them. The white men agreed to 
leave the < ountry and not return, 
and Mr. Catching and my father pre- 
vailed i.pon the Indians to submit 
their grievances to Indian Ager;t 
General Palmer, who was due tc ar- 
rive in a few weeks to treat with 
the Indians, which was accomplish- 
ed during that fall. 

The recital of this story will -now 
some of the problems that the early 
lettUrs had to meet in t>onnection 
with their relations with the In- 
dians generally. The settlors could 
maintam amicable relations wt'b 
them, but irresponsible outsiders 
would commit outrages upon the In- 
dians, and then leave the settlers 
at themercy of the savages, whose 
dominating characteristic was re- 
venge. 

Article XXII. 

Late in the afternoon after the 
Indians had dispersed, the white 
band of murderers struck camp and 
departed, going up Cow Creek. The 
following morning I was allowed to 
go with Chief Jackson to the scene 



of the killing. Following the trail 
of the white men at "Copper Flat" 
we came to their camp-fire still burn- 
ing. If we Lad met with the whites 
there was no doubt but that my 
Indian companion would have been 
in real danger. 

We were on foot and I had an 
opportunity to witness the cautin 
with which an Indian approaches 
danger. When we saw the smoke 
of the camp-fire we took advantage 
of every clump of brush, scanning 
every inch of ground ahead of us. 
Finally we discovered a coyote 
(wolf) near the camp. Jackson at 
once straightened up, taking the 
trail, trusting to the sagasity of teh 
coyote not to be in proximity of the 
white man. 

On arriving at the destroyed In- 
dian camp a gruesome sight pre- 
sented itself. The dead squaw had 
been thrown upon a drift heap of 
logs and was half burned up. The 
old Indian had made his way into 
the river before they had finished 
him and he lay partly out of water 
on some rocks. I was at this time 
thirteen years old and looked upon 
these Indians as our friends. My 
boyish emotions were expressed in 
tears. My Indian companion, with 
the stoicism of his race, viewed the 
scene without a word, and although 
this murder was one of the causes 
of the Cow Creek Indians taking the 
war path two years later, they never 
held the settlers accountable. 

In September 1853 General Joel 
Palmer negotiated a treaty with the 
Indians, meeting them on Council 
creek, exactly where Mr. Johnson 
now lives. The Indians had de- 
creased rapidly in the two years pre- 
vious. Of the Miwahleta band there 
was only a remnant left. An epi- 
demic of some kind of fever during 



54 



Early Days in Oregon 



the winter or 1852-3 swept away two- 
thirds of the band, Chief Miwahleta 
being one of the first vicitms. I re- 
member my Chum Sam with other 
Indian boys coming to our house and 
saying "The Chief is dead, the In- 
dians will soon all be gone." 

At the treaty all the Indians were 
assembled from Canyonville, Myrtle 
Creek and Galesville and to organize 
them Gen. Palmer asked them to 
elect a head chief and a sub chief 
at this election Quentiosa was chosen 
head chief and his son, Tom, sub 
chief, passing over Jackson, the son 
of Miwahleta, much to the dissatis- 
faction of the remnant of that band. 

In the treaty the land laying west 
of Council creek and south of Cow 
creek, extending some distance back 
in the mountains wes set apart as a 
reservation. 

Three log houses were built in the 
grove where the council was held. 
These houses were about eighteen 
feet square of unpeeled fir logs with 
flue through the center of the roof 
so that the Indians could live in 
their primitive style by making a 
fire in the center. These cabins 
were only occupied by Quentiosa's 
band, the others preferring their 
huts at their old homes. 

A field of about twenty acres was 
fenced that fall and planted to wheat 
which the Indians harvested the fol- 
lowing summer. The next fall they 
were furnished oxen and plowed and 
seeded the field themselves and for 
two years after the treaty there was 
nothing occurred to seriously dis- 
turb the peace although there were 
many small grievances. 

The settlers' hogs multiplied rap- 
idly and rooted up the "Kansas" 
fields. The Indians' dogs which fol- 
lowed the squaws, worried the hogs 
and the settlers shot the dogs and 



as is always the case — even among 
civilized neighbors — the hogs and 
the dogs were a source of trouble. 

Article XXIII. 

In looking back over the time be- 
tween our arrival in Cow Creek val- 
ley, late in October, 1851, and the 
date of the beginning of the Rogue 
River Indian Wars of 1855-56, seems 
a longer period of time than four 
years, and I trust my readers will 
pardon me for relating some of my 
"boy" experiences of that time. 

On our arrival, we boys were soon 
on good terms with the Indian boys 
of our age, of which there weer about 
a dozen, and every minute of our 
spare time we were engaged play- 
ing ball, swimming, hunting or fish- 
ing. The Indian boy was an enthu- 
siastic ball player. They had a ball 
game played something like "La- 
crosse." In this game they used a 
wooden ball about one and one-half 
inches in diameter and played with 
a stick flattened and crooked at one 
end to drive the ball. The point in 
the game was to drive the ball past 
and between goal posts at opposite 
ends of the field. The ball was put 
in play in the center of the field by 
tossing the ball in the air, and then 
it could only be played upon with 
the crooked sticks. This game was 
mostly played by the older Indians, 
one tribe or band against another, 
and on these games they would 
stake all their worldly possessions 
and when the ball was put in play, 
Oh boy! but there was action for 
you. Talk about foot ball or basket 
ball — both combined would not com- 
pare with this Indian game with 
about twenty young bucks on a side, 
stripped to the breech clout and 
scattered over the field to intercept 
the ball and drive it through their 



JSartfy Days in Oregon 



do 



opponents goal. At times the inter- 
ference would be terrific and the 
young bucks' skins would glisten 
with perspiration. I think I can 
leave a further description of this 
game to the immaginations of my 
readers. It was in the summer of 
1852 that the Indians engaged in 
this game for several days, in which 
contest the Miwaletas were opposed 
by the other small bands. 

Among the Indian boys was a 
grandson of Chief Miwaleta, a boy 
about my age. We were great 
chums. Sam was my constant com- 
panion in my grouse hunts and he 
soon learned to handle my rifle and 
was proud of the accomplishment. 
On one of our trips to Portland with 
ox teams Sam went with us. Port- 
land at that time was a small town, 
and we camped on the river bank 
near Morrison street, turning our 
oxen out to graze among the stumps 
and timber. During the evening we 
discovered a small steam boat com- 
ing down from Oregon City. The 
boat's engine was high pressure kind 
and was like one of the kind that 
Lincoln told about that operated on 
the Sangamon river that had a ten 
horse power whistle and a six horse 
power boiler. We, including Sam, 
went to the water's edge to see the 
boat come down, which with its 
loud exhaust and shower of sparks 
presented a terrifying sight to Sam. 
On its nearer approach he grasped 
me by the arm trying to get me 
away. About that time the boat's 
engineer turned all steam on the si- 
ren. This was too much for Sam 
and heran for it. We found him in 
one of the wagons, a badly scared 
little Indian. After we had explain- 
ed to him what it was, he wanted to 
forget it. On his return he had 
many things to relate to his tribe. 



Early in the spring of 1853 the 
remnants of Miwaleta's band scat- 
tered to the hills. More than one 
half of them had perished of the 
fever during the winter. We boys 
were not allowed to go near the In- 
dian camp at the falls of Cow Creek 
for fear of contagion. It appeared 
that Sam had contracted the fever 
before the Indians left their winter 
quarters and had tried to follow, 
but was too weak and had been left 
to his fate. When this was reported 
to me I obtained permission to go 
in search of him. I found him on 
Wilson Creek near where Mr. Hen- 
slee now lives, lying by a log and 
alone. When I reported this to my 
mother she consented for me to 
bring him to our home, where we 
gave him every care, and for atime 
we thought he might recover, bat 
after lingering about three months 
he died. Sam during his illness was 
patient and grateful, but like all his 
race was a fatalist. He had made 
up his mind that he would not get 
well, and it is said that when an In- 
dian loses hope of recovery he is 
sure to die. 

After Sam got so weak and emac- 
iated I would carry him out under 
the shade of the trees where he 
could look at the mountains. At 
one time he said: "We will never 
hunt up there (pointing to Old Pin- 
ey mountain) any more. Iwill soon 
be gone." During Sam' ssickness I 
was nurse, and when he died I was 
chief mourner; also undertaker and 
sexton. I buried him under some 
young pines on the banks of Cow 
Creek. 

Sam was a bright, handsome lad 
and learned to speak English quick- 
ly. While on our hunts we would 
each give the English and the Indian 
name for every bird or animal that 



30 



Early Days in Oregon 



we saw. I hope my readers will pra- 
don me for giving this sketch of Sam 
but his death was my greatest boy- 
hood grief. 

I think I have previously men- 
tioned how pleased all Indians were 
to have "Boston" (American) names 
no matter how ludricous. One old 
Indian we gave the name of "Pill 
Shirt" (red shirt) who was named 
in this way: When our new house 
was far enough completed for occu- 
pancy the upstairs was used in part 
for storage and was reached by a 
narrow stairway leading up from one 
side of the fire place. One day our 
Aunt Lucinda was coming down the 
stairs with a great bowl of flour and 
slipped and fell, landing on the old 
Indian, who was sitting on the low- 
er stair. The aged lady was not 
seriously hurt, the Indian breaking 
her fall and receiving the flour all 
over him. The old fellow was fond 
of "sapolil" (bread) but was not 
pleased to have it spread over him in 
that way. He immediately demanded 
payment, claiming that if Aunt Lu- 
cinda had not fell on him she would 
have been badly hurt. The matter 
was settled by giving the Indian a 
red flannel shirt and also the name 
"Pill Shirt", by which he was known 
afterwards. 

The Indians also conferred names 
of their own on the white people. 
My father was known throughout the 
country as Lom-tu (old man), my 
mother was Mulagolan (mother), 
my brother in law, W. H. Merriman 
was given the name of Shindonah, 
which was the Indian for "Long 
Nose" and my brother, J. B., 
(Bouse) was called "Ta-pou-hah" 
(white eyebrows) while I was called 
"Jode." This was not Indian, but 
was my boy nickname. My next will 
treat of more serious matters. 



Article XXIV 

After the treaty with the Cow 
Creek Indians in the fall of 1853 
there was no serious trouble with 
them until the final outbreak in Oc- 
tober, 1855, when our Indians joined 
with thier hereditary enemies, the 
Rogue River Indians. Many causes 
led up to this. One authority gives 
as the cause of the war as the "En- 
croachment of a superior upon an 
inferior race. 

Take the Indians of southern 
Douglas county. In the four years 
after 1851 their numbers had dimin- 
ished over one half. The sources 
of their food supply had been great- 
ly diminished by the settlers' fields 
and livestock, especially hogs, that 
ravaged their kammas fields. Many 
of their race had been ruthlessly 
killed. In 1852 a young Indian, a 
son of Chief " Wartahoo", was hung 
at the William Weaver place. It 
was claimed that he had insulted a 
young white woman by an indecent 
gesture. Within four hours he was 
hung. This might have been con- 
sidered justifiable from the white 
man's point of view at the time, but 
to the Indians, the bey's fault would 
not compare with the treatment their 
women had received from drunken 
white men. 

At another time a boy that was 
with some miners at the Bollenbaugh 
mines was engaged in wrestling with 
an Indian boy, and became angered 
and stabbed him with a knife and 
killed him. At another time one of 
our young Indians went south with 
a pack train anl leaving the train 
was on his way home, when he was 
stopped by some white men that were 
at a trading post. on Wolf Creek. It 
is probable that the men were drink- 
ing, as there was always plenty of 
whiskey at these houses along the 



JB ariy Days in Oregon 



57 



>ad. At any rate there was a chance 
have same fun by hanging an In- 
tan, so theboy was placed upon a 
>rse, a rope was put around his 
>ck and attache! to a limb of a 
ree. At this point in the proceed- 
ings the proprietor of the house, 

Dr. , rushed out, crying: 

"Hold on, that Indian owes me six 
bits." The hanging was delayed 
until the Indian produced the mon- 
*ey and paid his debt, and finding he 
had a dollar left asked that it be 
sent to "Lomptu" (oM man) Riddle. 
When these business matters were 

7 

concluded the horse was driven from 
under the boy and the hanging was 
completed. When the facts of this 
affair hecame known that trading 
post was given the name of the "Six 
Bit House" by which it was known 
afterwards. 

These hangings and killings to- 
gether with the treacherous slaugh- 
ter of the Grave Creek Indians and 
the murder of "Tip-su" Bill by the 
Grave Creeks at the instigation of 
the whites, also the murder of the 
old Indian and squaw near our 
home, and numerous other slaugh- 
ters of Indians in Josephine county 
at a time of peace and of Indians 
not involved in the short war of 
1853 — all these outrages were 
known to our Indians and made them 
ripe to enter into the hostilities 
against the whites when the general 
outbreak of the Rogue Rivers came 
in 1855. 

Some of my readers may conclude 
that my sympathies were with the 
Indians and in so far as the unjus- 
tifiable outrages committed upon a 
helpless, ignorant people are con- 
cerned, I am content to be termed 
an Indian sypathizer, and I am safe 
in saying that ninety out of one 
hundred of the actual settlers — the 



home builders of the early days in 
Oregon were disposed to treat the 
Indians fairly. There were numer- 
ous other persons, especially in the 
mining districts that looked upon 
the Indian as having NO rights that 
a white man need respect. These 
men called themselves "Extermina- 
tors." Right minded people called 
them "desperadoes." 

To quote from Walling's History 
of Southern Oregon, speaking of the 
outrages committed against the In- 
dians, it says: 

"Public sentiment today admits 
the truth of the strongest general 
charges of this nature and the ven- 
erable pioneer perhaps on the edge 
of the grave says sadly: "The In- 
dians suffered many a grievous 
wrong at our hands, unmentionable 
wrongs they were, of which no man 
shall ever bear more." 

It is said to be characteristic of 
the Indian to wreak vengeance in- 
discriminately upon the white .race 
when he goes upon the warpath, but 
to that trait our Cow Creek Indians 
must have been an exception. Fol- 
lowing the outbreak of the Rogue 
Rivers in September, 1855, they 
publicly declared their intention of 
joining in the war, yet they made 
no attempt to injure any of the set- 
tlers of Cow Creek Valley, and with 
one exception they expressed no 
animosity towards any of our neigh- 
bors. 

ARTICLE XXV. 

During the winter 1854-55 I at- 
tended school at Wilbur, Oregon. 
This school was founded by Rev. J. 
H. Wilbur, who had solicited sub- 
scriptions all over Southern Oregon. 
It was a modest frame building of 
one large room, but to me it seemed 
a magnificent structure. I mention 
this for the reason that some writers 



58 



JBafly Days in Oregon 



- 



have stated that the school of 1854 
that came into history as the Ump- 
qua Academy was a "rough log 
structure" when in fact it should 
have the credit of being the first 
frame school house in Southern Ore- 
gon. I attended this school three 
months and worked for my board 
in the family of a Mr. Clinkenbeard. 
My duties were to chop wood for two 
fireplaces and a cook stove. The 
manner of getting v/ood wrs to fell 
oak trees, trim up the limbs, and 
drag them with oxen to a convenient, 
distance from the house, where the 
wood was chopped for use. Also 
water had to be carried about 150 
yards for the household. These and 
other duties kept a fifteen year old 
boy busy. 

Miss Sarah Tibbets, a sister of 
Mrs. Binger Hermann, was also 
working for her board. We were 
up of mornings long before the other 
members of the household, me to 
start the fires, and Sarah to cook 
the breakfast, and strange to say, 
we would find time to study while 
the other siudents slept. 

At this school in three months I 
acquired about all the "book learn- 
ing" I ever had, and that consisted 
of the three R's — "Reading, 'Riting 
and 'Rithmetic, and a simple form 
of book-keeping. At school I have 
never studied grammar; but after 
I was married and to some extent 
had entered upon public business, a 
friend presented me with a textbook, 
"Quackenbush's Composition and 
Rhetoric" — a study of which has no 
doubt been a grer.t help to me; but 
when I have been called Upon to 
make short addresses before educa- 
ted people, the fear of making gram- 
matical errors was always in mv 
mind. 

I hope my readers will pardon me 



for this personal history, but it wil 
illustrate the conditions of the pio- 
neer days. 



Early in the summer of 1854 my 
father removed his plow making 
and blacksmith business from the 
farm to Roseburg, where he was as- 
sociated with one John D. Bowen 
in the plow making business. Their 
shop was situated on the corner 
where the Van Houten House now 
stands. Their business was quite 
extensive, with two forges engaged 
in plow making and one for general 
blacksmithing. In all six men were 
employed. After my three months 
school at Wilbur my father installed 
me as cook in a small house almost 
adjoining the shop, on Main street, 



and I was also bookkeeper for the 
business. I was a great deal better 
cook than I was bookkeeper. My 
father had little knowledge of how 
books should be kept, and John D. 
Bowen had less. I do not remem- 
ber any complaints of my work as 
bookkeeper — perhaps my mistakes 
were more of omission than they 
were of commission, and if I failed 
to charge a customer for work done 
the chances were that he never would 
have paid anyway. 

But as cook for six men and all 
the customers that might be in the 
shop at meal time, I must have been 
a busy boy. My father was very 
hospitable, and at times I was called 
upon to prepare meals for notable 
people. At one time Governor 
Gains, who was making a speaking 
canvass of the state, was our guest 
over night, sleeping in a bunk us- 
ually occupied by a blacksmith hand. 
I was called upon to prepare meals 
for many other guests not so dis- 
tinguished or welcome as Governor 
Gains. 



I 



JBai'ly Days in 



Oreg-on 



59 



My fathers partner, J. D. Bowen, 
was a good mechanic but would go 
on periodical sprees and the periods 
were not far apart and- generally 
he was very disagreeable and irreg- 
ular in coming to meals. One day 
he came in with another man about 
as drunk as himself with two boys 
and ordered me to prepare dinner 
this was after I had just washed up 
after the noon meal and I would 
have to commence all over again, 
which I proceeded to do, but Mr. 
Bowen became impatient and abu- 
sive. I had endured much of his 
durnken abuse before and I could 
stand no more, so then and there 
I went for John D. Bowen with a 
stick of stove wood. I soon cleared 
the kitchen of the whole outfit. The 
result was my father and Mr. Bowen 
dissolved partnership, my father con- 
tinuing the business. Mr. Bowen 
afterwards reformed, at least his 
sprees were not continuous. He mar- 
ried and settled down, plying his 
trade in Roseburg for many years 
and was quite a useful citizen. 

At the time of the above happen- 
nings I was a tall boy fifteen years 
old. 

I now approach a time in my 
story, the fall of 1855. The begin- 
ning of the Rogue river Indian war 
of 1855-6, the most bloody of all the 
Indian wars of the northwest coast. 
With our Indians but one incident 
had occurred within the last two 
years to cause any friction between 
the reds and the whites. The In- 
dians had cultivated their field on 
their small reservation and to some 
extent had worked for settlers in 
their fields. One young Indian that 
we called "Ed", a son of Chief Quen- 
tiousau, had worked for I. B. Nich- 
ols. Some misunderstanding arose 
and Nick (as we called him) pro- 



ceeded to give the boy a thumping. 
Chief Quentiousau interfered to stop 
the fight, when Wm. Russell, a hired 
man, seized a club and struck the 
chief on the head. No one was se- 
riously hurt, but the chiefs dignity 
was wounded and he demanded a 
horse in payment which Nick re- 
fused to give him. This left an un- 
settled fued which came near pre- 
cipitating a disaster later. 
Article XXVI. 

The Rogue river Indian war of 
1855-6 was caused by the indis- 
criminate slaughter of a band of 
helpless Indians on Butte creek near 
the banks of Rogue river. 

These Indians were a part of 
Chiefs Sam and Joes band who by 
a treaty with General Joseph Lane 
in 1853 had- been settled upon a res- 
ervation on the north bank of Rogue 
river, around Table Rock, and dur- 
ing the two years after the treaty 
there had been no authentic char- 
ges of wrong doing on the part of 
the treaty Indians. But there had 
been trouble with non-treaty In- 
dians, most of which originated be- 
tween the miners and Indians in 
Siskiyou county, California, and 
3mall bands of Indians inhabiting 
the mountains west of Ashland. 

On the 7th of October, 1855 a 
company? of white men from the 
mines around Jacksonville and led 
by one "Major" Lupton ' (who had 
not derived his title from any mil- 
itary service) surprised a helpless 
band of squaws, old men and chil- 
dren, killing, them all. The num- 
ber killed has been variously stated 

Captain ' Smith of the regular 
army stationed at Fort Lane visited 
the scene of the slaughter on the 
day of its occurrance and reported 
to the war department that there 
were eighty old men, squaws and 



GO 



IS airly Days in Oregon 



children. Others fixed the number 
at thirty. 

Of the whites engaged in tihs 
business — about forty — Lupton was 
mortally wounded by an arrow that 
penetrated his lungs from which he 
died, and one other man slightly 
wounded. 

It will seem strange to my read- 
ers that forty white men could be 
so lost to all sense of justice and 
humanity as to engage in a slaugh- 
ter of helpless old men, squaws and 
children. 

It is not my purpose to analyze 
public sentiment at the time of 
which I write. There was a feeling 
of insecurity among the white peo- 
ple of the Rogue river valley and a 
desire that the Indians might be 
removed and a fear that the In- 
dians might be aroused to avenge 
their own wrongs. There was some 
outspoken sentiment against the 
outrages committed against the In- 
dians, but when the Indians retal- 
iated within two days by a general 
slaughter of whites, the Indian sym- 
pathizers were very unpopula'r. One 
man was compelled to leave his 
home. 

I would say that in relating the 
foregoing I am indebted to Wait- 
ing's History of Southern Oregon. 
The incidnts are fresh in my mem- 
ory. We had many acquaintances 
residing in Jackson county at the 
time and I have heard the stories 
over and over from living witnesses. 

The massacre of the Indians on 
Butte creek occurred on teh morn- 
ing of the 7th of October, 1855. On 
the 9th and 10th the country be- 
tween Gold Hill and Galesville on 
upper Cow creek, a distance of fifty 
miles, was in a blaze. Only a few 
houses, where settlors hastily as- 
sembled and defended were left 



standing. Over thirty white people 
were killed on the 9th, among 
whom was the Wagner family. The 
Indians had selected the sparsely 
settled districts on which to re- 
venge the Butte creek massacre. At 
the time of these happenings our 
family was in deep distress at the 
sickness of my little sister, Clara, 
the youngest of the family. I was 
called horn efrom Roseburg. 

I am not sure at this date that 
we had heard of the Indian out- 
break at Rogue river. At that time 
there was no telegraph of phone 
lines. Not even a daily mail. But 
on the forenoon of the 10th a mes- 
senger, Henry Yokum, arrived with 
nformation that the Indians were 
sweeping north, killing and burning 
and had killed two men at Gales- 
ville and at that time had that 
place surrounded. Galesville is only 
about ten miles on an air line from 
our house. At once it occurred to 
us that nothing had been seen of 
our Indians for the last two days. 
It is an old axiom that when you 
don't see Indians, look out for dan- 
ger. I was sent on Yokum's horse 
to the Indian camp to ascertain 
what they wejre doing. I found 
their old camp on Council creek 
abandoned, but continuing on up 
the creek to where Mr. Bucking- 
ham's house now is, I was met by 
some Indian boys of my own age. 
1 had not seen the boys for several 
months and I was really glad to 
see them and they appeared to be 
be pleased to see me. 

The Indians were camped closo 
to the creek further up in the tim- 
ber. They evidently were holding a 
council. I could hear that one of 
them was making a speech and they 
no doubt at that time were conferr- 
ing with "runners" from the Rogue 



JBai'ly Days in Oregon 



Gl 



Rivers 

In a very short time some of the 
older Indians came out to where I 
was talking to the boys and I could 
see that they were not in a friend- 
ly mood. Their first question was 
whose horse is that. My answer — 
Henry Yokum. Then "What do you 
want?" I was prepared for an er- 
cuse for being there. I told them 
my sister, Mrs. Nichols, wanted a 
squaw to come and do some wash- 
ing. They then told me to "kl'at-a- 
wa ' (go). 

This was unusual The.y had al- 
ways shown the greatest friendli- 
ness to our family at their camps 
They repeated their demand for me 
to "hy-ak klat-a-wa" (quick go) 

Well, I klat-a-wad. When I re- 
ported my experience to my par- 
ents there were several of our neigh- 
bors at our house, and it was con- 
cluded that the neighborhood was 
in iminent danger of an attack by 
the Indians. 

It was certin that there were hos- 
tile Rogue rivers at that time in the 
valley. 

Early in the afternoon my little 
sister passed away. Immediate!-' 
a iter wards the neighbors who were 
at our house went hastily to t\i y *' 
homes and all loaded what they 
could of their effects into wagons, 
abandoned their homes and drove 
to the Weaver place that afternoon. 
Article XXVII. 

It would be difficult to picture the 
state of alarm that prevailed when 
the detail? of the massacres between 
Gold Hill and Cow creek were made 
known, and as to what action the 
Cow Creek Indians would take was 
a problem. That there were hostile 
Rogue River Indians with them was 
certain. The fact that they would 
not allow me to enter their camp 



was proof that they were at that 
time holding a "pow wow" with 
the runners of the hostiles was cer- 
tain. The settlers of Cow Creek 
valley acted upon the principal that 
"self preservation is the first law 
of nature in deserting their homes. 
The alarm spread all over Southern 
and Western Oregon. The people 
of the Willamette caught the infec- 
tion, alarmists at Salem and Port- 
land were devising means of de- 
fense and in Washington county the 
Methodists placed a stockade around 
their church. 

In a history of Indian wars of 
Southern Oregon appears the fol- 
lowing: "A safety meeting was held 
at Corvallis because three hundred 
Cow Creek Indians were said to 
bave cfcme north of the Calapooia 
mountains and threatened the lives 
of all." This shows how alarms will 
spread and how the numbers of In- 
dians were magnified at that time. 
The Cow Creek Indians (warriors) 
would not have exceeded twenty-five 
and perhaps not one of them had 
been north of the Calapooia moun- 
tains in their lives. 

But to get back to my story. As 
I stated before, all the settlers of 
Cow Creek valley left their homes 
on the afternoon of the 10th of Oc- 
tober and assembled at the Wm. 
Weaver place. On the day follow- 
ing I was sent on to Roseburg to 
look after affairs there while the 
family returned to the valley to bury 
the child. With them went a well 
armed escort, among whom was 
Capt. R. A. Cowles, John and James 
Weaver. The burial was at Riddle 
cemetery and was the second grave 
made there. 

After the burial the party went on 
up to our house at Glenbrook. There 
they found everything as it had been 



62 



Early Days in Oregon 



left the day before, hut no Indians 
in sight. 

It seems to have been the pre- 
vailing opinion of the neighborhood 
that there should be an attempt to 
have a talk with the Indians to pre- 
vail upon them not to go into the 
war, but to come in and camp near 
our house and under our protection. 
My mother insisted on this being 
done. She volunteered to go to the 
Indian camp to induce them to come 
to our house for a conference. She 
told the neighbors that she was sure 
the Indians would not harm her. 

She went on horse back across 
the river to the camp where I had 
seen the Indians the day before and 
found the camp deserted. On her 
return home, coming out of the tim- 
ber and crossing Council creek some 
Indians, seeing who it was, showed 
themselves on the side of the moun- 
tain toward "Hackler flat. My mo- 
ther rode up to them and inquired 
for the old Chief Miwahleta. They 
told her that the chief was "sick 
tumtum" (heart sick) and did not 
want to see a white man. (He had 
been struck with a club by a white 
man.) 

My mother told them that we 
wanted to be friends with them and 
she wanted them to come over and 
talk with my father and the neigh- 
bors, telling them who was there. 
The Indians, had great confidence in 
Capt. Cowles. They inquired for I. 
B. Nichols and asked that he come 
over and talk to them. 

I would state here that I. B. Nich- 
ols was the only settler that the In- 
dians harbored a grudge against. 
This was on account of his hired 
man striking the chief with a club 
for which he (the chief) demanded 
a horse which Nichols refused to 
give, thus leaving the wound to his 



dignity unhealed — the wound to his 
head was slight, but to his pride it 
was immense. 

My mother obtained a promise 
from young Chief Tom to come for 
a talk and a short time afterward 
Tom, followed by about a dozen of 
his young braves in full war regalia 
and armed, appeared on our side of 
the river, halting just across the 
small creek near the stone spring 
house at Glenbrook, where my fa- 
ther met them. Capt. Cowles, with 
some of the men, were posted in a 
log smoke house and others of the 
men in our hewed log dwelling that 
was a fortress in itself and com- 
manding a view of the council and 
sixty yards distance. I. B. Nichols 
was requested to keep out of sight 
on account of his unsettled difficulty 
with the old chief and his son, Ed. 

I have always regretted that I 
was not present to hear the Indians 
state their grievances and fears. 

The relation of this last confer- 
ence with the Indians impressed it- 
self indelibly upon my mind and 
memory and I can visualize the meet- 
ing and the participants: My fa- 
ther stating the desire of the white 
settlers for the Indians to remain 
at peace and l to camp near our house 
until the troubles in the Rogue river 
valley were over, and offering pro- 
tection. Chief Tom, a young Indian 
and son of Chief Miwahleta, was 
spokesman for the Indians. He did 
not question the sincerity of my 
father and admitted that he had 
always been fair and just with them 
but questioned his ability to protect 
tehm. That they had been prom- 
ised an agent to protect them but 
he had never appeared. That they 
had remained at peace during the 
Rogue river war (1853), but me-sah- 
chee (malicious) white men had kill- 



JBaifly Days in Oreg-on 



63 



eel one of their old men and a sqdaw 
when they were at peace. In fact 
Tom, in a qhite eloqhent manner, re- 
cited their grievances since the com- 
ing of the white man. The dowardly 
massacre of the Grave Creek In- 
dians; the killing of "Tipsu Bill"; 
and many other outrages. He ad- 
mitted that the Rogue River In- 
dians had been among them and in- 
formed them of the massacre of the 
Rogue River Indians at Butte creek 
four days previous and that the In- 
dians believed that the white people 
meant to exterminate them whether 
they remained at peace or not; and 
that they were going to join the hos- 
tile Rogue Rivers and die fighting. 

Tom did not express animosity to- 
wards anyone in the neighborhood 
but throughout the conference ex- 
pressed the conviction that the In- 
dians were doomed to be extermina- 
ted, but that they would die fighting. 
In this he was correct so far as the 
fighting men were concerned. 

Tom himself was killed at the 
Ollalla battle and it was reported 
that out of all the able bodied young 
men of the Cow Creek Indians, but 
one boy, about my age, survived the 
war. That was John, one of my 
hunting companions. He was after- 
wards known on the reservation as 
Citizen John and lived until a few 
years ago. 

Article XXVIII. 

While the conference was pro- 
ceeding between Chief Tom and my 
father, I. B. Nichols, although warn- 
ed not to appear, approached the 
Bcene of the "powow". When a 
short distance from the Indians he 

is discovered by young Ed, who 

ediately dropped upon his knees 

ing aim at Nichols. Before he 

Id fire Chief Tom seized his gun 

commanded him to desist. There 




is no doubt that Nichols escaped 
death by a hair's breadth. He saw 
Ed's attempt to shoot, but did not 
falter. I. B. Nichols had met with 
heavy losses at the hands of the In- 
dians — had lost an entire pack train 
and their loads by the Rogue Rivers 
and had narrowly escaped with his 
life. He had never had any trouble 
with our Indians until the episode 
with Ed and his going to the coun- 
cil at the time was to show the In- 
dians that he was not afraid to meet 
them. ; 

When Tom and his band retired 
with the avowed intention of joining 
the hostiles they were never seen a- 
gain in the Cow Creek valley. 

Within a few days after the oc- 
curences narrated above, two com- 
panies of volunteers were raised in 
what now comprises Douglas county. 
Capt. Samuel Gordon's company 
mustered in at Roseburg, in which 
I. B. Nichols and my brother, Wil- 
liam H. enlisted, and in about ten 
days after the Indians had disap- 
peared, I. B. Nichols, with a few 
men, were quartered in our house, 
and soon after that a stockade was 
built around a house where Mr. 
Peter Didtel now lives. For at least 
ten days the homes in the valley 
were deserted and property entirely 
at the mercy of the Indians, yet not 
one thing was disturbed. This goes 
to show that they had no desire to 
harm anyone of the white people 
who had lived here in contact with 
them thru four years. 

During the winter of 1855-6 our 
family lived at Roseburg, my father 
caring for his blacksmith business 
and my mother kept boarders, with 
myself for assistant. 

During the winter there were stir- 
ring times. Volunteer companies 
were passing through Roseburg to 



ez 



Early Days in Oregon 



the Rogue River country. Col. Wil- 
liam J. Martin made his headquar- 
ters at Roseburg. It was here that 
he issued his ceelbrated order to 
"take ho prisoners" yet he soon had 
a lot of prisoners, but not if Indian 
warriors. 

It appears that when our Indians 
went on the war path their aid men, 
squaws and children were hidden 
away in the canyons of the moun- 
tains. One band of these — between 
thirty and forty in number — were 
hidden on the head of Rice creek 
near Dillard. These refugees would 
steal out to pilfer food from aban- 
doned homes. Finally a few of the 
settlers assembled and calling Laz- 
arous Wright of Myrtle Creek, a cele- 
brated grizzly bear hunter, to their 
assistance, tracked the prowlers to 
their camp. They were so securely 
hidden that they were in the midst 
of the camp before they discovered 
them, and to their surprise they 
found more Indians than they ex- 
pected and of a different band from 
what they expected to find, but 
found that the Indians were Cow 
Creeks and quite willing to surren- 
der. These Indians were turned 
over to Col. Martin who had them 
brought to Roseburg, where I rec- 
ognized our old friends. I was then 
employed as interpreter and instruc- 
ted to ascertain where the warriors 
of the tribe were, but they, if they 
knew, would not tell. 

The Indians were housed in an 
annex to a carpenter shop. I was 
instructed to spend the night under 
a work bench where I could listen 
to their conversation. I could hear 
the names of absent warriors men- 
tioned, but no locality that I could 
understand. 

I would say here that I had learn- 
ed a great deal of the Indian lan- 



guage. It was easy to learn and un- 
like most Indian language their 
words were pronouncible. As a spy 
I was not able to learn anything o 
value. 

On the following day Col. Martin 
had two of the Indian girls aged 
twelve or fourteen years, brought 
to a room in the hotel. Among the 
men presetn was Capt. Daniel Barnes 
aid to Col. Martin. One of these 
girls was Nellie, daughter of the 
"Tipsu Bill" murdered by the Grave 
Creek Indians in the futile attempt 
to save their own lives and the sup- 
posed white child mentioned hereto- 
fore. I was directed to ask them 
where the Indians were, but could 
get no answer but "wake-kum-tux" 
(don't know). The girls could 
speak jargon and could understand 
English. Capt. Barflies undertook 
to put them thru the third degree, 
but could get no information from 
them. 

Col. Martin had with him a sword 
— the property of Gen. Joseph Lane, 
one that had been surrendered to 
him by the Mexican general Santa 
Anna in the Mexican war. This I 
remember was a beautiful sword, 
gold hilt, scabbard elaborately en- 
glfaved — -finally Caipt. Barnes pre- 
tended to become enraged, seized 
the little squaw, Nellie, thrust her 
into the corner of the room, drew 
the historical sword, assumed his 
fiercest look (he was a large be- 
whiskered man), enough to strike 
terror td the hea^t of the little 
savage, and addressed her in jar- 
gon, "Kah mika kon a wa tilicum" 
(Where are your men folks.) 

No answer. 

Drawing the sword and rushing 
at the girl as though to thrust it 
through her he said "Al-ta-mi-ka 
wa-wa pe-mi^ka mam-ook mem-a- 



JSmrly Days in Oregon 



65 



loose mika" (Now talk or I will kill 
you.) 

The little squaw, isolated in a 
rjoom with a half dozen of what to 
' her must have looked like fierce 
white men, with the point of the 
sword at her breast, did not show 
fear by the batting of an eye or a 
quivver of the lips. The well staged 
attempt to frighten these girls to 
tell of the whereabouts of the war- 
riors was an utter failure. 

I have related the above story 
partly to show the stoical character 
of the Indians. They can be demor- 
alized by a surprise attack, but as a 
prisoner they cannot be intimidated 
to confess anything. 

The band of old men, squaws and 
children were finally placed on the 
Grand Ronde. reservation in Yam 
hill county. 

Stories came back to us that Nellie 
was the belle of the reservation and 
her beauty was talked of all over 
Oregon. My readers will pardon me 
for relating a true incident that oc- 
curred while these Indians were held 
near Dillard and Roseburg. A bach- 
eolr, Mr. McL., became infatuated 
with the little squaw Nellie and 
begged with tears to be allowed to 
adopt or keep her and have her edu- 
cated, to which Col. Martin turned 
a deef ear. McL. made no secret in 
expressing his grief and genuine at- 
tachment for the little squaw, al- 
though ridiculed by his associates. 
Article XXIX. 

After the battle of "Hungry Hill" 
Capt. Gordon's company of Douglas 
county volunteers was stationed 
near the falls of Cow Creek and 
Ehe settlers gradually gained confi- 
dence that they would not be mo- 
lested by the Indians and began to 
move freely about the valley to look 
after homes and stock, but most of 



them remained forted up at our 
home or at the Flmt (Didtel) place- 
Tracks of Indians had been dis- 
covered — evidently of squaws who 
had come in at night to get wheat 
and food that they had cached be- 
fore leaving. 

At one time some Indians appear- 
ed near the home of — Russell, who 
with two sons, Joseph and Curns, 
w re at their cabin on 'Shoestring, 
low the Blundell place. When the 
Russells discovered the Indians they 
left their cabin and ran f or it. /he 
Indians fired their guns and set up 
a yelling, as they said afterward, to 
<>ee them run. The elder Russell 
v v as a man about seventy years old 
and very corpulent and was unable 
to run at any great speed and it 
was quite evident the In.lians had 
no desire to injure them. They did 
not molest the house. T/ie Russells 
had to run about two miles to safety. 
The Indians could have easi'v over- 
taken the old man, but made no 
attempt to do so. 

Some time in December a band of 
Indians composed of Gov; Creeks 
and Rogue Rivers made an attack 
upon the Rice family near Dllard, 
that was followed by a battle (fight) 
wii the Olalla near the Wells place. 
Of this Indian raid Victor's history 
gives the meager account After 
narrating the disposition of the vol- 
unteer forces, it says: 

"But the companies were not per- 
mitted to remain *n quarters. Dur- 
ing the absence of the volunteers 
early in December some roving 
bands of Indians were devastating 
the settlements on the west side of 
the South Umpqua, destroying fif- 
teen houses whose inmates had been 
compelled to refuge in the forts.." 
Here is a sample of what will 
pass on down to future generations 



6'6* 



JSariy Days in Oregon 



as history. Not a word of the at- 
tack upon the Rices and severe 
wounding of Harrison Rice, and the 
battle of Olalla in which Chief Tom 
waf : killed. But Mrs. Victor says 
"destroying fifteen houses", and as 
a matter of fact no houses were des- 
troyed. At no time did it appear 
to be the policy of the Cow Creek 
Indians to burn houses. 

The true story of this Olalla raid 
is as follows: 

A man named "Yell" who had 
some cattle grazing in the Boomer 
Hill district, went out one day alone 
to look after his stock, going over 
the mountain by way of "section 
four," following the trail around by 
what was then known as "Pole Cor- 
ral" (now known as Boomer Hill). 
On top of the ridge west of the 
Ledgerwood place, Yell discovered a 
band of Indians in a grove of small 
oak trees about three hundred 
yards away. The discovery was mu- 
tual. Yell turned to right and dash- 
ed across a steep gulch, while the 
Indians rushed to head him off. Yell 
thanks to his sure footed horse, 
reached the top of the ridge leading 
to the valley ahead of the Indians, 
who were firing at long range. Yell, 
urging his horse down a rocky ridge 
his saddle slipped onto his horse's 
withers, no time to stop to aljust 
his saddle he got behind the saddle 
and losing no time he rode to the 
stockade (Didtel place) a very much 
demoralized man. It appeared there 
were none of Capt. Gordon's com- 
pany available to go in pursuit, so 
I. B. Nichols immediately organized 
about eight men to join in the pur- 
suit and was on the Indians' trail 
next forenoon. In the meantime 
the Indians had passed over the 
mountains and camped on Rice 
creek within one-half mile of the 



Rice family residence. On the fol- 
lowing morning, discovering smoke 
evidently from the Indians camp- 
fire. The Rice fam'ly consisted of 
Harrison Rice and wife (who was a 
sister of our townsman, O. L. Wil- 
lis), one son and five daughters. 
The oldest was about sixteen years 
ard the son, Sylvester, two years 
younger, and a brother of the head 
of the family, Austin Rce. There 
was also an Indian boy with them 
about sixteen years old. 

On seeing the smok-3 the Rices 
were apprehensive of Indians and 
started the boy, Sylvester, to in- 
form some bachelor . neighbors, 
Robert Phipps, and others residing 
across the Umpqua river above Pil- 
lard. At the same time Austin Rice 
vent to higher ground ti get a Det- 
ter view of the smoke. He was fired 
upon by the Indians, receiving a 
rifle bullet in his arm, shattering the 
b:>ne. At the same time the In- 
dians were firing at the boy who 
was running, the bullei.s whizzing 
all around him After b.3 had got- 
ten well away, he dropped to the 
ground and removed his shoes that 
hf might run the faster. Austin 
Pice managed to get into the house, 
which was a small weather boarded 
aifair situated near the bank of a 
creek with lower ground between 
and the main bank about fifty feet 
v it.h timber down to the creek on 
the opposite side from the house. 

The Indians soon surrounde 1 the 
house, firing into it from all sides 
Father Rice, aided by tb,3 Indian 
bcy r returned the fire and managed 
to keep the Indians from approach- 
ing the house. Several times In- 
dians with torches would rush from 
the creek sid?, of the house, but 
veuld be met with gun firo that sent 
them back. The Indians had fired 



23 arly Days in Oregon 



07 



barn, carpenter saop and all out 
Lu'ldings, and the house was rid- 
dled with bullets. .That none of the 
iarnily was hit was on account of 
th- forethought of the Indian boy. 
All the children were made to lie 
fiown and bedding was placed be- 
tween them and the walls 

After the fhst fusilade the In 
Sians slackened their firing i>ut re- 
mained around the house for sev- 
ers! hours, firing occasional shots 
and attempting to fire the house. 
Bf. lore noon the Indians disappeared. 
No doubt their look outs discovered 
the approach of the Nichols party, 
wlic on reaching the Willis farm, 
Here informed of the attack. 

The Rice family always expressed 
a deep sense of gratitude to the In- 
dian hoy, believing that his help 
sav >d their lives. What was re- 
iffinrkable abo r this boy was that 
only few wet.l< : '. before h - whole 
family and .iDe had been <.n<l]y 
murdered by a surprise attack of a 
band of white men. The boy's fam- 
ily was of the Umpqua or Olalla 
tribe, had no connection with the 
hostiles, and did not speak the same 
language. They had assembled 
near the home of Mr. Arrington and 
had put themselves under his pro- 
action, and their slaughter was bit- 
terly denounced by everyone in the 
vicinity. The boy was one of the 
four that had escaped the massacre 
and remembering that iho. Indians 
Lad been kindly treated by the 
Rices, went to them for protection. 

I have given this particular ac- 
count of the attack upon the Rice 
family on account of my connection 
with them. Anna M., the second 
daughter, was my first wife, and the 
third daughter, Alice C, was the 
Wife of my brother Abner, therefore 
the circumstances are very vivid in 



my memory. 

Article XXX 

Since writing my last article I 
have consulted Mr. O. L. Willis who 
has given me some additional facts 
with reference to the attack upon the 
Rice family. It appears that the 
boy, Sylvester Rice, who went for 
help, on arriving at the Umpqua 
river about one and a half miles 
from their home, found the canoe 
was on the opposite side of the river 
and failing to secure help from that 
quarter, turned and ran to the home 
of his grand father Willis. The Rice 
and Willis homes were both situated 
in narrow valleys with a high steep 
ridge between and about one mile 
apart on a direct line, but over three 
miles around by wagon road. After 
the Willis family had made their 
preparations for defense one of the 
sons, Albert Willis, went on horse 
back to see what the result of the 
attack had been. Coming in sight 
of the Rice home from an open hill- 
side he was warned by the Rices to 
go back, that some of the Indians 
might still be lurking in the vicinity. 
Young Willis in returning home by 
the wagon road was fired upon by 
the Indians, but rode through a hail 
of bullets without a scratch. 

Reports of the attack upon the 
Rices soon reached Roseburg and 
caused some excitement. The set- 
tlers in the Brockway and Olalla dis- 
tricts deserted their homes and con- 
centrated for mutual protection. The 
sheriff of the county, "Pat" Day, 
hastily organized a few men and 
went to the rescue. At Olalla they 
were joined with the Nichols party 
and late at night the Indians were 
located, encamped on the west bank 
of Olalla creek. 

They had swung around from the 
Rice-Willis settlement, following a- 



68 



Early Days in Oregon 



bout the same route that the road 
now runs from Dillard to Cam^s 
valley. Finding all houses deserted 
they had helped themselves to their 
contents and had secured a lot of 
horses on which to pack their loot. 
They evidently did not expect to 
meet with opposition. Their raid 
seemed to be for the purpose of for- 
aging more than to kill or destroy. 
They had chosen a place for their 
camp between a large fallen tree and 
the creek, the log lieing paralel with 
and about fifty feet from the creek. 

Sheriff Day assumed command of 
the minute men, about twenty in all, 
and in the vicinity were about the 
same number of volunteer members 

of Captain Buoys' company. 

During the night a consultation was 
had and a plan of attack was agreed 
apon. Capt. Buoys men were to 
cross the creek on a foot log and 
take a position on the opposite side 
of the creek from the Indian camp 
and await the attack by the sheriffs 
men. The plan was a good one, and 
if it had been carried out to the let- 
ter they would have had the Indians 
between two fires. 

Day's men took their position on 
the hill-side in a fringe of young 
oaks, about two hundred yards from 
the Indians with open ground be- 
tween, where they lay for an hour or 
more awaiting the coming of day- 
light to make their surprise attack. 

The Indians seemed to be having 
a jolly time— had big fires and were 
baking bread by wholesale — their 
laughter reaching the waiting men 
on the hillside. 

Before it was fairly daylight 
some of the horses the Indians had 
rounded up came up near the men. 
A couple of Indians came up after 
the horses, one of them coming near 
Sheriff Day who became excited on 



thinking that they would be discov- 
ered, fired, missing the Indian and 
spoiling all their plans. 

I. B. Nichols, sizing up the situ- 
ation, called on the men to come on 
and charge, which the men hesita- 
tingly did. "Nicks" voice was rec- 
ognized by the Indians and they 
shouted back "G — D — I. B. Nich- 
ols." The white men charged down 
the slope reserving their fire until 
they reached the log. The Indians 
had fired upon the charging whites 
without reserve which gave the 
white men the advantage when the 
fighting was over the top of the log. 
One man, Fred Castleman, was 
wounded in the stomach while run- 
ning in a stooping position, making 
an ugly wound, but not penetrating 
far under the skin. 

The Indians fell back to the creek 
bank, but made several desperate 
charges to gain the log. The whites 
did not dare to show their heads a- 
bove the log and most of their fir- 
ing was at random. 

There were two boys about my 
age with the whites, Eugene Flint 
and Benton Kent. These boys per- 
sisted in exposing themselves in or- 
der to get a shot at the warriors, 
but they were pulled down by older 
men. 

This battle continued for over 
thirty minutes. But where were 
Capt. Buoys' men? They should 
have been on the opposite bank of 
the creek, firing into the Indians' 
backs, but not a rifle cracked from 
that direction. Finally the Indians 
gave way, wading the creek, which 
was at flood and came up to their 
arm pits. One white man had 
reached the opposite bank of the 
creek just as the Indians made their 
dash across, but said there were too 
many Indians for him to tackle a- 



Early Days in Oregon 



69 



•e, so he flattened himself out in 
le brush while they passed on ev- 
ery side of him. 

Capt. Buoys' men did not arrive 
until the Indians had all made their 
escape except one, Chief Tom, who 
was found dead in the edge of the 
creek, and no doubt there were sev- 
eral wounded Indians. 

During the summer following, I 
found rags tied on bushes where 
trails parted that we believed to be 
to inform stragglers what direction 
to take. This would be for wound- 
ed Rogue river Indians not familiar 
with the country. 

The hasty firing of Sheriff Day 
before it was light enough to shoot 
accurately, and the failure of Capt. 
Buoys' men to reach the designated 
point in time, saved the Indians 
from almost total annihilation. 

During the day of the Olalla bat- 
tle the Indians fired upon "Burb" 
and "Doc" Brockway at their cabin 
on Thompson creek, but did not per- 
sist in the attac*k. They were mak- 
ing their way to their main camp in 
the big bend of Cow creek, where 
they were discovered a few months 
later. 

Article XXXI 

Among the efficient organizations 
of 1855-6 was Capt. James Burns' 
Infantry company. 

This was a small company. Capt. 
Burns was employed scouting thru 
the mountains usually with four or 
five men. Their business was to lo- 
cate the Indian camps that were hid 
away in the mountains. 

About six weeks after the battle 
of Olalla Capt. Burns,- with three or 
four men, located the Indian camp 
at a point now known as "Camp B" 
in Cow creek canyon. At that time 
Cow creek canyon was almost an un- 
iexplored country, yet there was a 



well defined Indian trail from Cow 
creek valley over the mountain to 
Middle creek and over another to 
the Indian camp. 

When Capt. Burns discovered the 
Indians early in the morning, a 
dense fog covered the canyon. He 
was so close to them that he could 
hear their voices and smell the 
smoke from their fires. 

When Capt. Burns made his re- 
port Col. Martin imemdiately assem- 
bled all the available forces at 
Glenbrook — in all about four hun- 
dred men, composed of Capt. Gor- 
don's, Capt. W. W. Chapman's, Capt. 
Jos. Barley's and some detachments 
of other companies. Something over 
three weeks was spent in assembling 
this small army, and much of this 
time was spent in drilling the men, 
which was, to say the least, highly 
absurd. With his own old "nose" 
loading gun and the manual of 
arms was no benefit to him. 

During the assembling of this 
army our family moved back from 
Roseburg to our home, my father 
remaining in Roseburg to conduct 
his blacksmith business. 

I would say here that a stockade 
had been placed on two sides of our 
log house, the stockade projecting 
past a corner on each side so as to 
have a clear view on every side and 
holes were made between the logs 
upstairs, from which to fire our 
rifles. 

From the preparations made by 
Col. Martin he must have thought 
that he was going out to attack the 
whole hostile tribes and their num- 
bers were always greatly exagerated 
The Indians at the camp at Camp 
B at that time might have numbered 
forty, judging from the number of 
huts left by them. (I spent the 
summer of 1857 at the same place 



70 



JS airly Days in Oregon 



and used some of the material from 
their camp to prepare me a camp or 
store house in supplying Chinese 
miners.) 

When Col. Martin's preparations 
were finally made his army was 
marched over the mountains to Mid- 
dle creek, the first day about eight 
miles, and on the next day they 
marched over the mountains from 
Middle creek to the Indian camp. 
They found the camp, hut no In- 
dians. With all the preparations 
and noise of two days march, the In- 
dians were fully advised of their ap- 
proach and simply faded away into 
the many timbered rocky gulches of 
the mountains. 

Col. Martin had marched his 
army down the mountain to the de- 
serted Indian camp and there was 
nothing left to be done but to march 
his army back up the mountain the 
way he had come. But the volun- 
teers were not to get out of the 
mountains without casualties. 

About one mile from the Indian 
encampment there is a beautiful lit- 
tle prairie of a few acres, almost lev- 
el land on the side of the mountain 
and with convenient water. Capt. 
Bailey obtained permission to en- 
camp there during the night and 
pitched his camp under some pine 
trees, the ground dropping off into 
a steep timbered gulch immediately 
from the camp. 

Capt. Bailey took no precautions 
but allowed his men to build up bon- 
fires around which they were engag- 
ed in wrestling and having a good 
time. The Indians approached the 
camp from the timbered side of the 
bluff, fired into the crowd of men 
assembled around the fire. John L. 
Gardner was instantly killed and 
Thomas S. Gage mortally wounded, 
expiring the day following. 



I well remember the return of the 
expedition. The two dead boys were 
carried upon litters and were left at 
our house. Gardner was interred in 
our cemetery. His was the third 
grave made there and is now un- 
marked. Young Gage's body was 
taken to Brockway for interment. 
His father was the first owner of the 
land on which the town of Brock- 
way is now situated. 

During the evening after the re- 
turn several of the officers were stop- 
ping at our house, and discussing 
the events, some of them suggested 
that it was too dangerous for fam- 
ilies to remain where we were. Some 
of the officers were engaged" in po- 
litical discussions. My mother lost 
patience and addressed them about 
as follows: "You gentlemen seem 
to forget that those two boys back 
there are laying dead through your 
incompetence, and as to leaving my 
home again, all I ask of you is to 
leave my boys with me and we will 
take care of ourselv*es." 

A few days after the above oc- 
curences Capt. Gordon's company 
were discharged and a new company 
was organized .with Edward Sheffield 
as captain, in which my brother, 
William H. Jr. and myself were en- 
rolled. 

The events narrated above have 
no mention in either of the histories 
that I have — Victors and Walings — 
although the entire Northern Battal- 
lions were engaged for nearly one 
month. If they could only have ex- 
changed a few shots with Indians 
"Vitor's" history could have des- 
cribed a great battle in which sev- 
eral hundred Indians were engaged 
and ncounted savaged killed etc. 
Article XXXII 

After the return of the expedi- 
tion to the big bend of Cow Creek 



JBftT"ly Days in Oregon 



72 



le volunteers were mostly sent to 

te meadows on Rogue river. A- 
bout twenty of Capt. Sheffiel's men 
were assigned to Cow Creek valley 
under command of Lieut. S. S. Bun- 
ton. With this detachment were 
my brother William and myself. 

Lieut. Bunton pitched his camp 
about two hundred yards northeast 
of the present residence of Mr. A. 
L. Aikins. Two very large oak trees 
were felled and the limbs cut and 
arranged to enclose the camp. This 
camp is mentioned in the history of 
the Indian Wars of Oregon as Port 
Sheffield. 

My brother William and I were 
detailed to stay at home for the pro- 
tection of the family and were al- 
lowed to assist in planting crops, 
but this arrangement did not last 
long. 

Indians were reported to be in 
.the vicinity of Olalla. Lieut. Bun- 
ton immediately called his scattered 
army of twenty men to assemble at 
Fort Sheffield and made his detail 
for the expidition. From this de- 
tail, much to my disgust, I was o- 
mitted. We were not informed who 
would be left at camp until a few 
minutes before the start, then I was 
informed that I would be left be- 
hind because I had left my horse 
at the farm. 

When the party loft camp I re- 
solved that I would not be left be- 
hind, so I ran to the farm, about 
two miles, and on arriving home I 
found that the horse I expected to 
get was in use by someone and away 
from home, so, knowing the trail 
the party would take, I started to 
overtake them on foot, and knowing 
the most direct route, I ran up 
through Hannum gulch over Jerry 
flat and on to the east end of 
Nickel mountain. 



I overtook the party just as they 
approached the top of the mountain. 
When I came in sight I was com- 
pletely exhausted. When my bro- 
ther saw me he came back and al- 
lowed me to ride his horse to the 
top of the mountain where Lieut. 
Bunton had halted, and on my com- 
ing up he proceeded to "bawl" me 
out, which I refused to do. The 
men pleaded for me and Bunton fi- 
nally yielded and the men through- 
out the trip gave me rides on their 
horses. 

I was then sixteen years old, very 
tall for my age, and as a mountain- 
eer I felt myself the equal of any 
one in the volunteer service. 

Our first camp was made on the 
ranch of John Byron on the south 
fork of Olalla creek. Here we 
found the Indian signs which con- 
sisted of some squaw tracks where 
they had been digging some pota- 
toes that had been left. 

Our camp was under an open shed 
That is, there was a roof, but no 
side walls. In this shed a large fire 
was built, while I was placed on 
guard about one hundred yards 
from camp. It was raining and half 
snowing. I was thinly clad without 
an overcoat and I envied the boys 
around the fire. The horses were 
grazing between me and the fire 
and the night was very dark. The 
horses were grazing near the creek 
bank some distance from where I 
was stationed, when all at once 
there was a snort and a stampede. 
The men around the fire went out 
from the circle of light and threw 
themselves on the ground thinking 
there were Indians, and calling to 
me to know what caused the stam- 
pede. I had not seen anything, but 
thought it might be Indians. At 
any rate there was no more fire that 



72 



Early Days 



in Oregon 



night. I was left on guard for sev- 
eral hours, Bunton saying that he 
would teach me to obey orders. 

This Lieut. Bunton was an illit- 
erate man, incompetent as an of- 
ficer, a big bluffer, and there was 
little discipline in his detachmetn. 

On the following day we went 
over some mountains to a point 
south of Camas valley. We found 
no Indians, but the hunting was ex- 
cellent. Elk and deer were plenti- 
ful. Here we camped several days, 
killing plenty of deer, but no elk, 
and if there were any Indians in 
the vicinity they were kind enough 
to not molest us, and if it had not 
rained so continuously we would, 
as the saying goes, "have had a very 
pleasant trip." 

On this trip my shoes entirely 
gave out and I made me moccasins 
out of fresh deer skins, hairside in. 
I knew how to make moccasins and 
they did fine except in walking on 
hillsides in the wet grass the bot- 
toms would turn to the top etc. 

The expidition returned to Fort 
Sheffield without casualties, for 
which I have always thought we 
were indebted to an old mule smell- 
ing the Indians as they were sneak- 
ing up to fire into the men that were 
sitting around that big fire. At any 
rate I will always think the old 
mule "Lizzie" had more sense than 
Lieut. Sam Bunton. (I was not 
fond of Sam Bunton.) 

ARTICLE XXXIII. 

During the month of May, 1856, 
the hostile Indians had concentrated 
in the mountains on lower Rogue 
River and after several days of 
fighting with two companies of reg- 
ular soldiers, in which the Indians 
were getting the best of it, several 
companies of Volunteers coming to 
the relief of the beleaguered regu- 



lars, the Indians finally agreed to 
surrender. 

At one of the preliminary meet- 
ings, before the arrival of the Vol- 
unteer forces, Chief John is re- 
ported to have addressed the regular 
officers as follows: 

"You are a great chief," said John 
to Colonel Buchanan. "So am I. 
This is my country. I was in it 
when those large trees were very 
small — not higher than my head. 
My heart is sick with fighting, but 
I want to live in my country. If the 
white people are willing, I will go 
back to Deer Creek (Josephine coun- 
ty) and live among them as I used 
to do. They can visit my camp and 
I will visit theirs but I will not lay 
down my arms and go with you on 
the Reserve. I will fight. Good- 
bye." 

Whereupon he took his departure 
unrestrained as had been agreed 
upon. 

A few days afterward messengers 
(squaws) came in saying the In- 
dians would surrender, which they 
did, stacking their rifles against a 
rock, Chief John being the last one. 
Thus ended the Rogue River Wars 
of 1855-56. The result was that 
all the Indians of Southern Ore- 
gon were removed to the Siletz Res- 
ervation, including the remnant of 
our Cow Creek Indians. This war 
a great relief to the white settlers. 
There was always a feeling of inse- 
curity and a fear that the Indians 
would avenge their great wrongs. 
Fair minded peoples must admit 
that they were made the victims. I 
have always thought that if the 
Cow Creek Indians had been award- 
ed fair treatment some of them 
would have made useful citizens. 
They went into the war with con- 
viction that the Indian race was 



Majrly Days in Oregon 



73 



doomed to extinction. They ex- 
pressed no animosity against the 
whites that they had lived in peace 
with for five years, but claimed that 
they would be murdered by "me- 
sah-chee" (bad) white men from 
the south. They preferred to die 
fighting and so far as I was able to 
ascertain, all adult males of the Cow 
Creek tribe perished during the 
war. 

During the Civil War I was a 
soldier, a member of Co. C, First 
Oregon Cavalry. During the sum- 
mer of 1861 our company in pass- 
ing through the Willamette Valley, 
encamped on Mary's river, near Cor- 
vallis. There was a camp of In- 
dians nearby, and some boys came 
to our camp. I soon discovered 
that they spoke the language of the 
Cow Creeks. When I addressed 
them in their native tongue they 
expressed surprise: "Kan-ta nan-ka 
quita-gin-a-gut ? " 

(Who are you, where come from?) 

I told them I was "Jode" from 
Miwaletah. They said they were 
too young when they had left their 
old home to remember me, but that 
they knew about Miwaletah. They 
darted away to their camp and soon 
returned with some squaws that I 
at once recognized as being of our 
Cow Creek Indians. 

One of them fell on her knees in 
front of me, crying. This one prov- 
ed to be the widow of Chief Tom 
who was killed in the Olall'a battle 
and one of the boys was Tom's son 
who was about three years old when 
they went into the war five years 
before, and we had named him 
"Shiner." 

These squaws begged to be taken 
back to Mi-wa-le-tah. I was in cav- 
alry uniform and they seemed to 



think I was a "Tyee" (officer) and 
could have them returned to their 
old home. They were human and 
were homesick. 

I questioned them about the In- 
dian men. Their answer would be 
"Mem-a-loos kon-a-way mem-a-loos." 
(Dead, all dead). 

That was the last I saw of the 
Cow Creek Indians. 

There were so many small bands 
of Indians placed on the Siletz res- 
ervation, that in the sixty-four years 
of their residence there they have 
lost knowledge of their former tri- 
bal relations. 

This concludes my story of the 
early days. I have told the story 
without exaggeration, and in the 
^me manner that I would f lf I 
were conversing with my neighbors 
around the fireside. If my story has 
impressed upon the minds of my 
readers the cojhdjtions and prob- 
lems met by the pioneer settlers of 
this country, then I will be repaid 
for my efforts. In two months more 
I will be eighty-one years old. 
Sixty-nine of those years I have re- 
sided in this small valley. During 
that time I have witnessed the de- 
velopment of Southern Oregon and 
this great state of ours, and in some 
measure had a part. It has been 
my privilege to see this country in 
its primitive beauty, before the hand 
of the white man had made his 
mark, but that is a part of the story. 
In the beginning of these sketches 
I had no thought that they would be 
published in pamphlet form. They 
were written for our local paper. 
Afterwards the publisher asked the 
privilege of publishing my writings 
in pamphlet form. They have all 
been written hastily, without any 
revision whatever, the publisher 



74 



JBarly Days in Oregon 



using the same type that was used 
in his newspaper, and my pencil 
copy was not always legible. 



"Alta nika kopet an-kutty papeh 
wa-wa." 

(Now I quit writing of l'ong ago.) 






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